


Petrichor

by spotofpurple



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, Angst, Child Abuse, Criminal Behavior, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Happy Ending, Hurt Harry, Liam is here only shortly, M/M, Protective Louis, Tattoos, Top Louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-04
Updated: 2015-09-25
Packaged: 2017-12-28 09:47:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 64,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/990599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spotofpurple/pseuds/spotofpurple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is a filthy rich, straight A student that lives in one of the biggest mansions in London with his father. He is also bullied and beaten in school and neglected at home. </p><p>Louis is a quirky punk who owns a bookshop and sings in a rock band. He is also providing  a cover for the two of the most wanted of London’s criminals, Zayn and Niall.</p><p>When Harry has a panic attack in front of Louis’ bookshop and the older boy helps him, a weird friendship is formed. And soon developed into something neither of the boys expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Child abuse, bullying, beating, humiliation, criminal behavior. Smut in later chapters.

He is trying to catch his breath in the few seconds it takes Jackson to grab his hair tighter and push his head back in the toilet. He doesn’t succeed and when he is back under, his eyes squeezed shut and lungs climbing up his throat to try getting air, Harry feels the embarrassing sting of tears coming on and that makes it so much worse.

At least, he can be thankful he won’t be seen crying today, since they decided to torture him in the toilets. His father was in a bad mood that morning and Harry was right there, so it was only logical that he was to be blamed for a very important meeting going very wrong. Sadly, Jackson and Mark and the rest of them decided to go through their weekly routine of “having some fun with Styles” today of all days, so the tears were to be expected really. Harry still blames himself though, because if only he were stronger and tougher and more resistant. If only he wasn’t a scrawny, geeky idiot and his every move material for ridicule and humiliation of everyone in this hell they call high school.

They don’t let him go until his head is properly soaked and there is disgusting toilet water dripping down on his shirt and trousers. His glasses are missing and he is scared, truly and utterly scared, because he is blind without those things and these lads that just provided him with a toilet shower are not likely to help him find his way out of the building and towards a taxi. He is shaking and there are actual hot tears streaming down his cheeks, he can feel them, even if the other three boys laughing right across the bathroom can’t see them. He doesn’t move, just keeps clenching and unclenching his hands, hoping he will find the damn glasses.

“See you tomorrow sweetheart. Say hello to daddy for me, will ya?”, Jackson says, crouching in front him and making the two boys behind them laugh. Harry blinks, breathing shallow while still trying to make the world stop spinning and the plea to help him find the damn glasses is halfway over his lips when he manages to stop himself. He will not beg, not now and not ever, because no matter how low a self-esteem he really had, he still had enough pride to nod at the idiot and turn his head away. Jackson laughs again, kicks something on the ground towards him and leaves.

Grabbing around the item, Harry realizes those are the glasses. Carefully, he lifts them up and pushes them against his face, hand faintly trembling. The lenses are not broken, but the temple and earpiece part is thorn off at one side. Harry locates it a little further away on the floor and scrambles towards it on all fours. Slowly, he stands up, holding his glasses with one hand and looks at himself in the mirror. Soaking wet and trembling, clothes disheveled and his shoes dirty from the scramble they had in the grass outside, when the idiots grabbed him and he tried resisting. It didn’t work though, it never does. They are the hunters and he is the prey and there is nothing he could ever do about it, not since he came here two years ago at least.

He sorts himself out, combs the trembling fingers through his hair as much as he can and straightens his wet tie. The walk from the bathroom to the street outside the school is long and filled with smirks and laughter echoing behind him. No one speaks directly to him though, not even the teachers that pass by. It has been like that ever since Jackson first assaulted him in freshman year. There he is, Harry Styles, the son of the most important man in London. And the weakest creature in the whole city probably. He keeps his head down and walks as fast as he can, forgetting to conceal the limp he acquired last week, when Jackson decided to practice kicking on him.

The taxi driver looks at him, really looks at him as he squeezes in on himself in the back seat. Maybe he is the first person that really looked at him in ages and maybe he has a question on his lips about a soaked, trembling boy he has in the backseat. But the money Harry holds out towards his face silences it all. Because, you see, that is one thing not missing from Harry’s life. Money. The driver turns around and starts the car, glancing once at the rear-view mirror. Harry schools his features to a look of apathy and tries not thinking about today.

He got an award today, for academic excellence, accepted in front of the entire school. He didn’t give a speech, because there was no one there to listen to it. An amphitheater full of students and he was alone in there, thinking of his demanding, strict father and his exceedingly time-consuming job and a bunch of excuses that were never offered for why he won’t be able to come. He thinks of his mother, apologizing over and over again for not being able to take time off of work, because the money was tight on her and she was still paying Gemma’s tuition and it was hard, even with Robin working, Harry knows. And he understands, really he does, but sometimes he just wishes for someone, anyone to give a fuck.

He is half-way home when it hits him, the absence of love and happiness and the true depth of the despair he is living in. Now he will go home and wash his clothes and do all of his homework and hide in his bedroom until father comes home from work. Then he will have to explain why he needs his glasses fixed, again, and father will look at him with that stern disappointment, again, and threaten to call his mother up in Holmes Chapel and complain about what a fucked up son she raised. Harry will nod and accept the scolding and bite his lip. Then he will ask to be excused and go up to his room and lie down in his bed. He will hug that damn award from today, because he has nothing else to hug. His mother will call and ask how he is doing and he will have to lie through his teeth. Because that is the deal. That was the deal two years ago, when Anne barely let him to go live with his father in London and he made excuses about a better school and enough money to buy that kind of education, that will get him into a good college. Both of them will pretend again that it wasn’t what it really was: him leaving home because Anne and Robin simply didn’t have enough money to support both his and Gemma’s education and he had to make a choice. He would choose his mother though, always had and always will, but Anne was crying and Gemma was talking about coming home to work and help provide for him, but how could Harry accept that? He knew they cared and he was thankful because the short two weeks he had to spend with them back home were sometimes enough for him to learn to smile again. But he couldn’t let them give up on their lives and their dreams. He just couldn’t. His own father, one of the wealthiest businessmen in London, didn’t seem like such a bad choice. Until the absolute cold and even worse terror of being a living, walking reminder of his father’s biggest mistake realized itself in the mirror of his expectations and Harry crumbled. He never learned how to be strong or bold or mean or generally not give a fuck.

His mother will then say goodbye and he will nod because he still can’t make himself say it out loud and then that will be it. Alone in the dark, touched only by the most expensive sheets money can buy, Harry will remain still. Him and the pain in his ribs from the kicking of last week, that is. Summer is coming in three months and father will expect of him to use the gym or the swimming pool in the basement of the mansion, to make him look more like a man and less like a failed attempt of one, he supposed. How will he hide the bruises and the scratches, Harry didn’t know.

He could almost feel it, the dark of that room and numerous questions hanging over him, right there in the taxi. Suddenly, he couldn’t breathe and there were flashes of light behind his eyes. The damn air was trying to choke him. Distantly aware that he was slamming his hand down on the seat in front of the driver, Harry only registered when the terrified man stopped the car and turned to look at him. There was fear in those eyes, but also pity, and Harry Styles, in all of his years, was never able to stand pity directed at him, no matter how frail and weak he was.

The door wouldn’t fucking open and he needed to get out, it was imperative that he gets the fuck out!

He kept slamming on them until finally he struck the handle and burst outside, falling on his knees on the sidewalk, gripping his backpack to his chest and heaving. The street was spinning around him, circles of grey and white all around and he couldn’t for the life of him get a breath of air inside.

The taxi driver probably figured that he shouldn’t get himself into whatever drug-addict-shit Harry got himself into, because the sound of screeching tires could clearly be heard, even in the state Harry was in.

With his eyes shut, Harry didn’t notice the door to a bookshop right in front of him opening and a boy around his age running towards him. He felt a hand though, gentle, warm hands, on his cheeks and his forehead, coaxing breath into him. One, two, three, four, five, a voice counted loudly above him, a stern and worried tone to it, so disproportional to the hands stroking his face that Harry was almost compelled to open his eyes just to see who the person was. When he did, it was only a silhouette of a head leaning above him, strands of short hair feathery around it. The brightness of the sky above bothered him though, so he shut his eyes again.

“Can you hear me?”, the counting voice said and Harry tried to get his throat to clear enough so he could speak, but nothing came out.

“Just nod if you can, alright?”, the boy said and Harry realized that he could nod, so he did.

“Alright, let me try to get you inside, you are wet all over…”

And with that, the boy pulled him up, first in a sitting position, then crouched down and draped Harry’s arm around his shoulders to lift him up. It worked, the standing up part, but his breathing started getting worse again and the guy holding him suddenly appeared in his line of sight, holding Harry up across his shoulders, patting his back like he did something great and not just fucking had a meltdown in front of this guy.

“Look at me.”, the guy said and Harry had to obey, because that voice wasn’t something you ever said no to.

He opened his eyes slowly and there he was. The boy was shorter than him, brown hair and tanned, frowning and biting his lip in concentration. And God, the eyes. Clear, blue, bright, alive with life, those eyes lured him in, forwards, until he was physically tipping over the smaller lad. The boy squeaked and gripped him tighter, huffing and widening his eyes.

“Easy lad, easy. Calm down and try to stabilize. Breathe, you hear me? You have to breathe!”

Harry tried, he really did and it was working. There was air in his lungs and that made him relieved and a little bit dizzy. His arms could hold onto the boy though and hold the did, gripping at the back of his shirt.

“Ok, slowly now, hold onto my shoulders and I will walk you inside, alright?”

Harry nodded again and the guy let go of his shoulders to support him from the left and then they were moving. Or the boy was dragging him, more like, towards the door of the shop in front of them. It was slow and very gradual, but Harry was coming to his senses. Getting inside from the brightness of the day, into the half-darkness of a bookshop certainly helped.

“Niall!”, the boy beside him literally screamed and Harry flinched.

“Sorry.”, the boy whispered when he noticed.

Then there was another, frown in place and a biscuit in his hand, a blonde with a gentle, bright face and smiling lines all over.

“What the fuck mate?”, he said, a thick Irish accent coming through.

“Don’t mate me, go outside and pick his backpack up.”, the boy holding him ordered and Niall stared at him for a second, scanning Harry up and down before shrugging and running outside.

“Let’s get you sitting down yeah?”, the boy turned to him and pointed to an armchair to his right.

Harry sat into it almost by himself, letting the boy hold him up only a little.

“There you go.”

He smiled and Harry blinked a few times before even attempting to smile back, too mesmerized by the brightness of it.

“What’s your name?”, he asked and Harry honestly thought about the answer. His insides were trembling still and there was something in him just waiting for this wonderful, bright boy to turn vicious and spiteful and hit him or laugh at the state of him.

“Harry.”, he said simply though, voice calm and quiet, because if Harry Styles’ upbringing while in the care of his father thought him anything, it was how to internalize fear, doubt and despair.

“Nice to meet you Harry. I am Louis.”, the boy said and Harry thought how the name suits him. It was a nice name for a nice boy.

He was staring right at Harry, his eyes open and unguarded and expression simple. There was something there though, a caution that was barely visible. Harry thought how it wasn’t really his problem, because a guy like this, with confidence and cheerfulness overflowing the edges of his character is bound to forget about a bullied nerd as soon as he escorted him back to his hell of a life. If he didn’t find some sick way of degrading him beforehand, that is.

Niall burst through the door, putting the bell above in a frenzy of ringing that nearly hurt Harry’s ears. He cringed and Louis shook his head at Niall’s brisk pace.

“Um, mate, are these yours?”, Niall held out his glasses, both the lenses and the torn off temple at Harry and the boy blinked at him and then nodded his head slowly. Some part of him was expecting for Niall to laugh and smash the glasses immediately, but then he shook his head in annoyance. Harry was naturally a trusting, kind person and this caution, a habit he acquired to expect the worse, always the most vile, that made him cringe. Changing who he was wasn’t an option, even if things were never good lately.

“I could probably fix them for ya?”, Niall leaned his head to the side, scanning him up and down again, frowning a bit, but not unkind. He was really trying to help, even if he didn’t know anything about him and Harry smiled kindly.

When Niall disappeared somewhere to the back of the bookshop, Harry turned his head around to catch Louis staring at him. Now, people staring wasn’t something new for Harry, but it was somewhat new to have someone this attractive stare at him with kindness and not a hint of malice. And then he had a blush to deal with, because thinking that Louis was hot (even though he was, ridiculously so) shouldn’t even be on his mind now. Louis averted his eyes politely as soon as he noticed Harry was blushing and patted his back again.

“Your clothes are soaking wet Harry, I don’t have anything here that might fit you to change, but maybe you could take that shirt of and let me dry it?”, Louis asked, biting his lip adorably and Harry’s eyes nearly bulged out.

“Don’t… You… Louis…”, he started and then shook his head in annoyance. Words still wouldn’t form into clear sentences for him.

But Louis was wiping a few drops of water off his face that ended up on him in the shaking-head-in –annoyance process and smiled again.

“Look mate, I know a panic attack when I see one and that one you just head was… You can’t just shake it off, alright? Sit down and just calm down a bit, but we can’t have you catching a cold in that, can we? Besides, Niall will take at least a half an hour to fix your glasses and you are kind of soaking my armchair.”

At that, Harry tried leaping to his feet, but ended up simply lurching forward at Louis, who grabbed him like he did outside.

“Ok, shit, calm down again, I said that wrong!”, he shouted at Harry and pushed him back into the armchair.

“Sorry, sorry, fuck the armchair, it doesn’t matter, just… breathe again, all right?”, and he looked at Harry fiercely, pleading and panicky just a little bit, which somehow calmed him again.

“Look, I have a blanket in the back, I’ll bring it here and you can wrap it around yourself and give me the shirt and I will hurry with it, ok? I’ll make you a cup of tea, and no, don’t even look at me like that, no one rejects my tea!”

He was holding Harry by the arms again and yes, he was nodding in an instant, even feeling a smile coming on again.

“Alright, be back in a mo, just sit there, alright?”

Harry leaned back a little bit and rubbed at his temples slowly. Panic attacks weren’t something new to him, but they haven’t happened in a while. He had the last one months ago, when his plans to go back home to Holmes Chapel fell through when his father insisted that he attend some business summer school the entire summer. He was about to object, ask for at least a week off because he missed his mum and that wasn’t allowed, was it? That was weak and he wasn’t a mommy’s boy, not under his father’s roof. So when the blows came and he just stood there, taking it, his father got even angrier and he struck him across the face. That happened rarely, because there anybody could see and anybody could ask questions and then what? He remembered dragging his feet up the stairs and locking himself in the bathroom, washing the blood from his split lip before he phoned his mum and lied that he is going to spend the best summer ever in London and how he can’t really make it to Holmes Chapel (and he was so careful not to let home slip through his lips). Anne’s voice was trembling while she complained, but Harry was decisive and stubborn. He had to be, because the other option was going back home forever and letting the burden of all this shit fall on his family, on the people he loved the most. However impossible it may seem, Harry was the one protecting here. But when the line went dead and he knew his mother was still angry, his strength vanished and he was left trembling on the bathroom floor, with air not coming in his lungs and the bright lights on the ceiling swaying this way and that. He got through that one alone, collected himself and took the entire night to school himself into resilience and tomorrow, business school started. At least, Jackson’s grades where shit, as was the case with the rest of his minions, so he wasn’t able to get in and torture him that summer.

Louis’ hand on his shoulder sent little sparks through him and he let the memories go, turning around to take the blanket from him and begin work at the buttons of his shirt. His hands were trembling still and it wasn’t easy, but that one glance at Louis (he turned around and tried to look busy inspecting the shelf with tea above the opposite armchair) awakened the sparks again and he was at least a little warmer as he draped the blanket around his shoulders.

“Um… Louis?”, he said and the boy turned around quickly and dropped a few tea bags in the process.

“You done?”, Louis asked and bent down to pick the tea bags up and the shirt from Harry’s outstretched hand.   
“I’m going to…”, he waved his hand in the direction behind Harry and shrugged when he stumbled over the carpet beneath his feet. Harry chuckled before he even knew what he was doing and Louis whipped his head around to stare at him, a smirk on his lips.

“Careful Curly, I bet you’re a bigger klutz than me.”, he said and skipped off, all stripes and bright colors and Harry just stared at him.

“Curly? Curly?!”, he screamed inside, smiling and fidgeting on that chair.

It was around 15 minutes later, when Harry had enough time to calm himself again that Louis came back to the main area of the bookshop with two cups of tea in his hands.

Harry was standing now, strong enough for balance but not confident enough to leave the blanket on the chair, even if he was sufficiently warm, looking at the bookshelves and smiling at the order the books were left in, messy and charming, but impossible to find anything it seemed. Most of the books were old, bought and read and cherished by someone already and Harry thought how he rather liked that, as opposed to the artificial-smelling textbooks he had to live with and the occasional novel he ordered from Amazon.

When Louis walked in and put the tea on the table in front of the armchair, Harry turned around and was met with a raised eyebrow and that smirk again.

“Come on. I dare you to try it and not like it.”, Louis said and pointed at the tea.

Now with steady hands, Harry bent down to pick the tea up and sipped slowly. It was steaming and sour and had no sugar or milk in it and Harry just looked at Louis, coming up with the best compliment he possibly could, but that smirk simply provoked the need to be brutally honest.   
“I like it sweetened. With a lot of honey. And I also prefer fruity ones, not the green.”, he said, raising the cup as if he was explaining that everything that was wrong in the world of tea could be described by this very cup.

Louis’ smirk was wiped off in a second and replaced with a frown. He looked ridiculous and cute, huffing and shaking his head in horror at what he just heard.

“You my friend, are horribly wrong! Sweet, fruity tea with honey, seriously, what is even…”, and he spit the words out like they offended him, but he was joking all the while, Harry could see it and it was only because of it that he remained calm.

Raising both of his eyebrows and dipping his head down to take another sip of the tea, Harry smirked himself.

“You see, it will grow on you!”, Louis said and clapped his hands once. Harry honestly wondered what in the world could be more adorable than this guy.

“It might, yes.”, he nodded his head and smiled widely. Louis was blinking at him afterward, like he wasn’t really clear on anything that Harry was and well, he wasn’t, was he?

They sat and sipped the tea in silence for the following few minutes, challenging each other to complain or provoke and just smirking when either of them took a new sip. Louis went to the back once to bring Harry’s shirt, dry but wrinkled, for which Louis apologized at least a dozen times while explaining that he didn’t know how to iron. Harry had to laugh at that. He then went away again while Harry put his shirt on, shrugging the blanket off and pulling the still warm fabric over his shoulders. It was nice and warm and he felt truly better, but whatever this kind human interaction that he wasn’t accustomed to was, it had to end. He had to get home in time, always on time when father was angry, because even though he never really cared on a normal day, he is going to demand attention and absolute obedience today. And he was already late, so the maid that took care of his father’s laundry and meals is going to report it, of course.

Louis came back when Harry was dressed, carrying a jar with honey in it and Harry grinned again. However late, he won’t regret this, never. The sound of laughter filled the room when he left the honey untouched and continued sipping the bitter tea, staring at Louis over the rim of the cup. Louis laughed like he smiled, warm and full and alive and Harry was besotted with him, even though he would not realize it until that night, lying in the dark again, but not thinking only dark thoughts now.

That is how Niall found them, Louis laughing and Harry staring, when he emerged from the back, Harry’s fixed glasses in hand and a grin on his own face.

“Here you go mate, all done.”, he held them out to Harry and looked damn proud while doing it.

They fit perfectly and not a scratch of the fitting that had to be done to the earpiece visible. Harry grinned and thanked him, grabbing for his wallet out of the trousers pocket.

“Oh, no you won’t, leave it mate, alright? “, Niall said and Harry was about to complain when Louis spoke.

“Leave it Curly, it’s fine, really.”, he said and then chuckled when Harry shook his head and opened his wallet.

“At least let me pay you for the tea and the shirt then?”

“No way. Pay for the sweet crap you usually drink, this deliciousness is on the house!”, Louis teased and Harry was left shaking his head and smiling again.

“I really have to go then. Thank you though. Really, thank you so much, I…”, he started the sentence thinking of what was the probability that obviously the two of the London’s nicest guys helped him after that meltdown, but Louis jumped from his seat and leaned over Harry, putting a finger over his lips and shaking his head.

“Don’t worry about it Curls. Nothing of it.”, he said. Harry would probably try to object, but Louis was touching his lips, gentle and warm as everything around him and he was frozen for a moment. Or several minutes really, one of those two.

“Leave the lad be Lou, come on, we have a job to do.”, Niall said from somewhere behind and Harry noticed a twinge of regret splashing Louis’ face, even though it was hidden the next second, the boy straightening himself up and picking Harry’s backpack for him.

“You will be fine?”, he asked Harry while they shook hands.

It was almost a conscious effort for him to not melt in the puddle on the floor and claim that of course he is going to be fine, he got a smile from Louis today, didn’t he? Several of them, to be exact.

He just nodded instead and waved at Niall at the back before bracing himself for the chilly London weather outside and opening the door. The bell announced his exit and he tried to keep walking without glancing back, but he didn’t quite manage it.

When he looked at the store again, Louis was staring right back at him, a hand touching his lips and a worried expression on his face. It made Harry’s insides tingle again.


	2. Chapter 2

The whole street is dead this early in the morning. Louis knew that when he climbed down the stairs at the back of the bookshop. It’s natural for it to be dead and cold and lifeless, this is actually a residential area of London and even though a few bars and stores are stretched across it, no one wakes up to go to a bar this early in the morning on a Thursday. No one except Louis Tomlinson apparently. He is bothered by the change that curly haired lad inflicted upon his usual day schedule, but being bothered doesn’t mean that he stops worrying.

Sure, Louis worries. About his mother and sisters back home, even though they are well provided for and taken care of. About Liam, the nurse that works in a nearby hospital and sometimes comes by for tea and a bit of gossip about the street’s residents, even though Liam is a sane, mature grown up that got married last year. About Perrie, the quirky waitress in the bar across the street that makes heart eyes at Zayn whenever she comes in, even though it’s not really his responsibility and he knows Zayn made it quite clear to the entire world that he is taken and quite smitten. He worries about Josh, the drummer of the band Louis, Zayn and Niall are in, even though Josh is all style, charm and charisma and he could probably talk his way out of a death penalty. He worries about Zayn and Niall the most, because there are no sane or mature decisions in their lives, or even a hint of peace and calm. Ever. He worries about these people because they are a part of his life in this bookshop, or because they were a part of his life living back home. It’s all based on the past memories and connections and current nets of affection they are all tangled in. Never has anyone just appeared, popped out of nowhere and upset the balance in Louis’ life. Until now.

On that Monday three days ago, when a boy jumped out of a taxi and crumbled on the sidewalk in front of his bookshop, Louis cared suddenly. He was a frail, shaking mess and when Louis stopped worrying about him suffocating on pure panic right then and there, he was also a lanky, stretched out kid who looked like he forgot how to smile.

Louis knew what a panic attack was, both his sister back home and Niall here in London, when him and Zayn were beginning their “business”, had them sometimes. However, this boy was something else, He wasn’t just nervous, he seemed desperate and from the moment he saw them, Louis wanted to fill those gorgeous eyes up with light. They were dark and troubled, like river water, only sometimes a spark would appear, choking and frail but there. Louis wanted many things, but from this boy he just wanted eyes burning up with life. Niall laughed at his behavior of a mother hen as soon as the boy left, but the real problem was that, even though he walked out of the shop, he never walked out of Louis’ head.

“Why didn’t I ask him what was wrong?!”, he mentally screamed at himself, choking on regret because the sad, tortured boy may never appear again and Louis just let him go, after something obviously shook him up. He didn’t fool himself into thinking he could fix him, but wanted to try so badly. Waiting for him to show up on Tuesday and Wednesday was bad enough. But tonight, the nightmares started. He dreamed of the boy dying on the street before Louis could reach him and help and it left a silent fear about his wellbeing present in Louis’ mind even after he was startled from sleep. Thinking that a cup of tea would help, Louis came downstairs, but the empty bookshop offered only long, black shadows. And the bloody armchair where the lad sat and trembled and stuttered in front of him, obviously needing help but too damn proud to ask for it out loud. Louis thought that was fucking beautiful.

Niall and Zayn came by around 8, holding hands and chuckling at something Louis would never get, even if he was willing to try.

“Why are you awake?”, Zayn asked him while leaning over the counter to reach Louis standing behind it and mess his bed hair up even more. Louis shrugged.

“It’s the boy again, isn’t it? The curly-haired cutie who you so valiantly saved?”, Zayn shook his head at him and smirked at Louis’ apathetic face. He couldn’t hide anything from these two, but he also wasn’t willing to try.

Zayn and Niall disappeared to his kitchen upstairs, always choosing to eat here instead of their own apartment. One, because Louis couldn’t cook. Two, because that way they could eat their breakfast at their workplace. Smiling to himself, Louis watched them go and thought how strange it was that they were all here, together, when in high school he honestly didn’t think their promises of sticking together were worth shit. Back home, they were the golden trio of Doncaster mischief, but when Louis finished high school first and decided to use the inheritance his grandfather left him to buy a bookshop in London, things got a little tense. Zayn and Niall were angry at him for breaking their dream of acquiring world-wide fame from a little garage in Zayn’s parents’ house, where they practiced chords and being rock-stars. Louis woke up when he graduated though, looked around himself and saw a life with no ambition and failed expectations everywhere, a mum and sisters who he loved but who didn’t really need him to look after them anymore and two best friends who were on a brink of revealing that they were in love with each other. Packing a suitcase and exploring London seemed like a good idea. And then he saw it and he was smitten and enchanted and wanted it so bad he couldn’t think of a reason against it. When he bought the book shop and came back to Doncaster to pack his entire life up, Zayn and Niall wouldn’t speak to him and his mother cried a lot, but the decision was made.

And he loved it, even though he missed home, sometimes just enough to type in a number and then delete it. He always saw himself as the leader, the one responsible and in charge, so maybe him growing up was him realizing that while he was imagining life other people around him lived it. London was good, fun, crazy for a while, all loud music and crazy outfits and ridiculous hook-ups with guys he never wanted to keep in his bed for longer than a night. Then he got tired of it, because he was Louis Tomlinson and a long attention span was never something he could brag with. He started hanging around his bookshop even in the evenings after closing hours and It was calm and soothing to read and think and just breathe freely. It was a cold winter night when Niall burst through the door with a beaten Zayn hanging of his shoulder, shouting Louis’ name like he was somehow salvation. He knew Liam back then already, so a quick phone call and a check-up later, they were assured Zayn wasn’t in mortal danger. He was angry, because he left them in Doncaster to be happy and fine, not to show up on his doorstep in pain and desperate for help, not when he was carefully training himself to stop caring for people outside his books.

What Niall and Zayn really got up to was thievery. He couldn’t believe it himself, but somehow, he stopped judging and started listening. They followed him to London and found a place to live while they figured out what are they going to do. But jobs for a couple of high school graduates who didn’t really know how to do anything didn’t show up, so Zayn figured out a way to keep the food on the table. Niall joined in slowly, almost reluctantly and they made a good team, Louis knew it, even if he never thought about approving or disapproving anymore. Zayn had a mathematical, calculating perspective on things, could figure out anything theoretically as long as he put his mind into it and Niall was always “hands on”, turning Zayn’s designs into perfect accessories of thievery. Sometimes, Louis thought how the way they worked was magnificent and it was only a pity that they stuck to two things only: the stealing and the bloody rock band they never gave up on.

The better they got, the more attention they brought onto themselves though and after a stealing an expensive car belonging to a son of a powerful man, Zayn got in trouble with the wrong side of the damaged parties, got beaten up and showed up at Louis doorstep. Niall cried about how they didn’t have anybody else in London they trusted enough and Louis was furious that they didn’t come to him as soon as money got scarce, but Zayn was stubborn and proud, so it never even existed as an option. Until he was badly hurt. Louis wouldn’t let them leave after that, insisting that they stay with him in the apartment above the bookshop.

Zayn was recovering nicely and their friendship was soon patched up, them being the kinds of people who loved too fiercely to let a loved one go. And it was alright, Louis trying very hard to stop both of them from continuing with it, but one night someone broke into the bookshop of all places and it was almost like fate intervened. Or, at least, that is how Zayn and Niall interpreted it. They came back from shopping for groceries to find Louis beaten, bleeding and trembling behind the counter, shelves broken and books lying everywhere and an empty cash machine. They didn’t contact the police of course, Louis too scared for his two best friends, but Zayn and Niall decided that they are going to keep doing what they did. Perhaps it turned into a Robin Hood kind of thing then, Louis still isn’t sure, but soon they robbed and stalked and fucking terrified the richest neighborhoods of London and they were at the top of their game. Cars were a no, a big no, conditioned by Niall since that one time, so they limited themselves to cash and, because of Zayn’s obsession, expensive art pieces. Louis still wanted only to protect them, hounted by that one time that he couldn’t, so he offered a room at the back of the bookshop, below his apartment, to them and soon it was a shelter in which they planned the thefts, hid the money and where Zayn concealed yet unsold, stolen paintings below layers of his art, keeping it looking like a studio.

“I’m still keeping an eye on them.”, Louis comforted himself and it worked, not even as an excuse but as an honest belief. He had them as safe as he could and they were close and happy, so what if a few houses got robbed from time to time? It’s not like they were stealing the bread from someone’s mouth. Sometimes, when he listened to them talking about it, it sounded almost fun, like an adventure and Louis thought a time or two about joining them, but someone had to draw the line. Funny enough, they were the ones drawing the lines for him and his crazy antics back home, but here, they were in the real world, so unlike a childhood home. Louis turned from troublemaker into a caretaker almost, but he didn’t regret it. It’s what he had to do, because it was their time for crazy, rash decisions.

He didn’t even notice the clock ticking away while lost in his thoughts, so the bell chiming above the door, signaling that someone came in, startled him. He sighed and rubbed across his eyes with numb fingers before turning around. And then he stopped breathing. It was the boy. Harry.

“Hi.”, he said while fidgeting nervously in front of the counter.

“Hello!”, Louis was sure his smile was too enthusiastic. Entirely, completely sure.

“I… um, do you remember me?”, Harry asked and Louis’ eyebrows shot up.

Definitely, certainly, he remembers.

“How often do you think people have panic attacks in front of this place? And, better yet, how often do you think I treat people who don’t appreciate great tea here?”

The thing is, Louis was always a bit lacking in the seriousness of dialogue. Especially when he was flirting. Which he wasn’t!

“Sorry about that.”, he ducked his head and Louis sadly noticed that there were no curls drying on the top of his head now, only perfectly combed, slicked back hair. He would call Harry a nerd back in high school. Now, well, he wasn’t sure he would retain speaking capability long enough to call him anything, to be honest.

“No problem, you are a special one. What happened to the curls Curly?”, he had to ask, avoiding the fact that he just admitted to this guy that he was the only one who got him interested in a year and a half of playing babysitter to two criminals.

“I… This is how I always wear it. That time it was wet, so…”, Harry stammered out, looking at the ground again. Louis was sure there was a lyric about staring at the ground in one of the songs Zayn wrote for the band.

“Ok. So, what brings you here?”, he asked and leaned against the wooden bar separating the two of them, Harry having gradually leaned forward.

“Tea.”, Harry says and Louis blinks, because he could swear that this one will never grasp the concept of flirting, but obviously he was wrong.

“You don’t say?”

“Yes actually. I bought something for you, since you wouldn’t let me…”, the sentence was left unfinished when a wooden box with a dark blue ribbon on top was left on the counter. Louis looked at Harry with a raised eyebrow, but the boy simply blushed and nodded towards the box.

When he lifted the lid up, there was an assortment of tea bags inside, all powerful, strong flavors and no fruity ones Harry seemed to like. Also, it was expensive, Louis judged by the brands, foreign names and authentic aroma spreading even now.

“You… You bought me tea?”, Louis said, confused. Maybe, just a tiny bit amazed, because, what?!

“Well, you didn’t want money and I owe you. It’s not… wrong, is it?”, he was uncomfortable now, fidgeting and spreading his hands over the bar separating them. Louis stared, because wow, the size of those hands.

“No, it’s… They are a perfect choice actually. Just, this is expensive Harry.”, he said, leaning away to observe a blush creeping up Harry’s face again.

“Irrelevant. As long as you like it.”

Louis did like it. A lot, actually. And not just the tea, but the gesture of it, the way Harry talked and was clearly uncomfortable doing this, but he felt he had to and he pushed beyond his uneasiness. It was clear communication with people wasn’t his forte, but he was doing it perfectly for now. And he was doing it for Louis, because of something Louis did for him and yes, that kind of simplicity and honesty was new in all of Louis’ years.

He nodded and pointed towards the pair of armchairs they sat in the last time. Harry looked at them with a sad, distant look in his eyes and shrugged, accepting the invitation to sit.

“Did you manage to dry it out?”, he asked.

“Wasn’t that much wet to begin with. Just stopped people from sitting in it since then.”, Louis said.

Honestly, he didn’t want anybody sitting there, because Harry’s presence was too intense in his mind to allow for any outside interferences.

“Fruity, yes? With a lot of honey?”, he asked smirking and Harry nodded.

“if you don’t feel insulted making that kind of tea?”, he joked and Louis laughed.

“No, I’m fine with it. It’s your loss really.”

He climbed upstairs to get the honey from his kitchen and was met with two smirking idiots leaning over the living room floor, at the end where there was no wall and you could see right down into the bookshop.

“What are you two doing?”, he tried for nonchalance but it obviously didn’t work.

“He is cute. Really cute. And nerdy. Didn’t know you went for the type Tommo.”. Zayn teased a little too loudly, making Louis lean down to clamp his hand over his mouth.

“Shush! I don’t want him being uncomfortable!”, he whispered while Niall and Zayn cackled on the floor.

“But you do want him.”, Niall concluded as Louis finally gave up, grabbing a jar with honey and racing downstairs.

Harry was looking at Louis’ copy of Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close that was left on the table last night.

“Oh, a book worm! Have you read it?”, Louis asked putting the tea on the table. Harry shook his head no.

“You should. It’s good. In fact, take it. Read it.” He was honestly trying to pretend that this wasn’t an attempt to keep Harry coming back.

Harry’s eyes widened.

“This is your copy, I couldn’t…”

“I read it already. Just take it, read it, come back to tell me what you think, yeah?”, he cooked his head to the side and Harry was blushing and nodding again.

“You, um… you live with someone?”, he asked and Louis frowned, confused.

“It,s just… I heard voices upstairs, I wouldn’t want to keep you too occupied.”, Harry said and Louis melted, because this was the nicest guy in the world.

“Oh, those are Niall and Zayn. You met Niall the other day. They don’t actually live here, even though they do spend a lot of time here. And they keep each other plenty occupied, if you know what I mean.”, he wiggled his eyebrows and took a sip of tea, watching as Harry’s lips stretched into a little crooked smile, a blush ever present on his cheeks. He blinked those big green eyes behind the glasses that made them look even bigger and Louis thought how this boy was precious, seeming fragile but so teeming with life underneath.

They ended up talking about books, obviously, for a few hours, only interrupted by an occasional customer Louis had to service. Niall and Zayn kept to themselves, only coming down to bring breakfast, toast and eggs served on two plates and Louis loved them for it. They ate and laughed, Louis truly and Harry timidly. He boy was smart and sharp where very few people were and he knew things about literature that Louis had no idea about. A straight A student, Louis squeezed that bit of information from him, reluctant as he was, blushing again when Louis praised him.

The next day, they talked about family and it was Louis’ turn to brag and talk without taking a breath in. Harry kept quiet and smiled when Louis’ got too excited during this story or that. But he didn’t talk about himself, just saying he was living with his father, mother was in Holmes Chapel, parents divorced and that was it. It looked like it almost pained him to say it out loud so Louis didn’t question him on it. He stored the information about that particular sore spot with Harry though. Mostly because he was hoping he will keep coming and talking and smiling that almost-smile that he was capable of and well… It’s not like Louis liked him. He just wanted to figure him out.

Niall and Zayn joined them on the third day to play a card game that involved excessive use of bluffing skills and Harry was complete shit at it. One look from Louis and he would show anything that could be expressed on his face about the cards he held in his hands, so of course Louis had to use his skills in fooling both Niall and Zayn to protect the lad. Of course they figured it out, cooing and awing at them, giggling when Harry blushed and Louis jumped to his feet to go bring some snacks. It was an hour later, when he was coming back to the table after an annoying customer finally chose the book and buggered off that he almost laughed at Harry, sitting uncomfortably across Niall and Zayn, who were draped across each other and giggling while exchanging kisses. Louis understood completely how it felt to hold a candle for these two, because they had an uncanny habit to just drift off and resurface hours later, cheeks red and messy hair, completely unaware that life has been happening around them.

“Come on.”, he tapped Harry on the shoulder and the boy flinched a little, surprised and throwing Louis a look that had a hint of scared in it. That was another mystery. Harry would get distant and guarded sometimes, seemingly about nothing, but careful consideration on Louis’ part realized he only did it when he thought he was about to be mocked. A few times, when Louis brushed past him coming from nowhere, he didn’t just startle the lad but also made him flinch and lean away, leaving Louis with dangerous, horrific thoughts about what the hell was the guy going through. He left it at that though, thinking how you can’t force people to open up and if Harry had boundaries, Louis was only happy to respect them, mostly because he had his own and people usually paid no mind to them.

He took Harry upstairs to his apartment, watching as he scanned the books and photographs quickly, comforted by the soft light coming through the roof windows. There was one which opened to the London skyline in the living room, and he sat Harry down beneath it, opening it and watching the boy snuggle in the thin school jacket he was wearing.   
“Here you go.”, he gave him a blanket, the same one from that day a week ago, he realized. Harry did to, because he hid a smile in it and breathed in.

“It’s best to give the two of them some privacy when they’re like that. You don’t mind hanging out just with me, do you Curly?”, Louis asked, watching as Harry’s eyes widened comically at the implication.

“No way! I mean, I don’t mind, of course, it’s great.”, he said and Louis looked at him looking out at the sky, all hidden smiles and caged beauty. He wanted to let it out. Make those lips really red and those eyes wide and sparkly and allow that hair to curl up for God’s sake, it was bloody enchanting when it did and well… He might want to love this boy.

It was a week later, after Harry didn’t show up for a single day and Louis was getting cranky, panicky and sad that he realized that maybe, just maybe, he already did.


	3. Chapter 3

The lady at the tea shop is nice and doesn’t seem annoyed that Harry is nagging about choosing the perfect blend of herbs when he is the first to admit that he hasn’t got the faintest clue about the sophisticated taste of a tea lover like Louis. But he is trying really hard and if it worked last time when he brought it to Louis, he doesn’t see why it wouldn’t this time. He is trying to change the content of the tea box this time, not wanting to come across like a lame idiot. Which he probably already has. He feels bad for not coming to the book shop for seven days, but it’s not like fist-shaped bruises covering his neck and face could be explained easily. School was easy to fool, because his father is influential and sometimes it makes sense for his son to be absent on “family duties”. But Louis, being the other constant in Harry’s life, one that he was very happy to acquire, wasn’t aware who Harry’s father was. And having already witnessed that panic attack, seeing bruises on Harry would make it more than obvious that someone was abusing him. Harry didn’t want Louis’ pity. He wanted a friend, the boy who made him smile and brought him toast and tea while Harry was reading aloud, sitting comfortably in (his) armchair. If he was being honest with himself, he wanted a lot more form Louis too, but that truth was destined to never be revealed. Harry was aware that he wasn’t what Louis needed, but that didn’t stop him from realizing that Louis was what he needed, no matter the nature of relationship.

When he got home that day a week ago, his father was waiting in the living room, early from work and pissed off like Harry never saw him before. He asked who Harry was with and when Harry tried explaining about a friend, well…

“You?! Friends?! Don’t lie to me boy! You have no friends! Jackson is the only one who hangs out with you, and even that only when I ask him to, so what friends are you talking about?!”, he shouted and Harry didn’t flinch away from him. He never did. But he also didn’t say a word as his father continued the interrogation. No, Harry would forever keep quiet about this. Across from him, an animal was peeking through his father’s eyes and he preferred not unleashing its rage at Louis or his friends, just like he never wanted to see it unleashed on his mother or sister. None of the people close to Harry would ever know how hard was it to stand and just take the beating, not raising his hands to protect himself and not trying to run away. It was partly because it seemed like a delicious kind of resistance and it was his father doing the beating. If he admitted to himself that he needed protection from him, it… He couldn’t. 

When he was punished enough, Harry dragged himself to his room and spent an hour putting lotion on the bruises and thanking God father was careful enough not to leave cuts or scratch marks. Downstairs, he could hear the faint sounds of Jackson and his mother arriving for dinner, conservation normal and polite, like they were a family sitting down together after a day spent apart. They fit together perfectly, Harry was aware of it the moment his father started dating Jackson’s mother. It was a match made in hell, an abusive idiot and a brainless twat, with her own little demon spawn. Nothing good ever came of that relationship, at least not for Harry. Jackson spied on his every move and was delighted to report back to his father, acting like a perfect obedient puppy that offered to “take Harry under his wing”, which he guessed translated into “make his life miserable”. Jackson had power, he had protection from his mother and, most importantly, he had respect from Harry’s father. That would explain why father thought it was urgent to discipline Harry after Jackson so nicely reported that Harry wasn’t spending time with him after school, but went somewhere else. Sitting in that bathroom and listening in on the voices from downstairs, Harry felt equally scared and humiliated. But he couldn’t run off to the book shop to forget all of this now. Jackson had an eye on him, that much was clear, which meant no seeing Louis until Jackson forgot about it and his bruises healed.

The lady selling tea smiled politely once again and claimed that a box of tea picked out that meticulously was bound to be a good choice. Nodding, Harry hurried outside, gripping the umbrella closer and trying to avoid the puddles. He woke up that morning to carefully wash his hair, trying to style the usual mess into curly obedience. It didn’t work as much as he hoped it would, but it didn’t look as messy as usual either. Along with the crisp white shirt and dark blue trousers he chose to wear under his winter coat, he was obviously trying to impress. The effort wasn’t all for Louis though. Louis didn’t really seem like a type of guy that would appreciate the business interview look either way, so it wouldn’t do to dress like this to impress him. But father arranged for a real job interview for him later in the morning, something “to keep you from moping around the house the entire summer”. Harry didn’t want to go. He was good at studying about law and corporate management and other things that impressed his father, but he hated the thought of doing it for the rest of his life. In fact, sacrificing yet another summer chasing his father’s dreams around London, while his mother felt neglected and unloved and worried home in Holmes Chapel… No, he didn’t want it at all, but agreeing to go to the interview was the only way to sneak out of the house earlier and go see Louis without his father sending Jackson to spy on him. At least, he hoped Jackson wasn’t about to follow him, because then there would be hell to pay when father came back from his business trip in four days.

The rain was still falling in torrents when he rounded the corner to the street where Louis’ book shop was. Coming closer to it, he noticed the light that was always on gloomy days like this one wasn’t on and the metal fence that dropped down over one part of the glass door up front wasn’t lifted. He was just about to knock on the door when there was a loud noise from upstairs, where Louis’ apartment was. Looking up, there was no one standing at the window, so he lifted his hand to knock again, when a white shadow ran over the room inside and slammed into the glass door comically. Harry squinted towards it, but the door was opened hastily and there was Louis, breathing in loudly and holding and arm to his chest, dressed in an oversized white sweater.

“Are you alright?”, Harry steadied the swaying boy with a grip to his shoulder and leaned his umbrella away from the doormat, not wanting to get it wet.

“Yeah, just…”, Louis was still wheezing, pointing a shaky hand upwards. Harry waved his head and frowned, but Louis smiled a little bit.

“Saw you from the window, ran downstairs because you would leave if you thought I wasn’t here. And I am. Almost. Usually. I was waiting… Where were you?”, questions poured out of him and made Harry feel something he hardly remembered feeling. Missed. Worried over, cared for.

“I was… away. Family things, not important. I brought you tea though?”, he held out the bag like an apology.

Louis smiled completely now, shaking his head and taking the box. He waved Harry in and turned around, walking backwards toward the counter.

“You didn’t explain where were you these 7 days?”, he asked, fluttering his eyelashes at Harry. Sometimes, when Louis said something that could be understood as flirty, Harry managed to convince himself that he was indeed flirting. And in those rare moments, he could say something that sounded flirty back. Later, he would fidget and blame himself for it, convincing himself that he was just asking for Louis to snap at him how he wasn’t interested and he should know his boundaries, but sometimes flirting with Louis was just easy.

“You counted the days?! Did you miss me Louis?”, he tried sounding smug while saying it and it must have worked at least a little bit, because Louis smacked into the counter and doubled over the next moment.

Harry ran to him and helped him straighten up. Louis’ gaze when he looked up at Harry was something that belonged in the movies, not regular life of Harry Styles, so he pretended his knees weren’t a bit shaky.   
They didn’t say much as Louis got behind the counter and grabbed his mug, disappearing in the back room after to make the tea. It was simple and they were both used to it, neither dwelling on the fact that they weren’t really talking. Or at least Harry thought so.

“What are you doing today?”, Louis asked and Harry really didn’t see the point of spinning any more lies.

“Job interview for this summer. At 11 o’clock.”, he shrugged.

“Oh! Well, you seem excited.”, sarcasm being the defining trait of half of Louis sentences, Harry knew he would say something like that.

“I don’t really fell like staying in London this summer.”, he said and then tried to convince himself that Louis’ face didn’t just fall a little, because how was he supposed to deal with that fact?

“Of course. You’d rather spend it traveling around Europe or something fancy like that.”, Louis smirked, a bit tense in the shoulders and looked away. There was something exposed and raw in his behavior today. Harry liked it.

“No, I mean I would rather go back to Holmes Chapel. It’s where my mum lives.”, he said and Louis frowned a bit before biting at his lip.

“Sorry.”, he mouthed. Harry waved his head and shrugged.

“So the job interview? What for?”, Louis asked, stroking his mug absent-mindedly.

“Marketing manager assistant. It’s supposedly good for anyone who wants in on the business.”, the lack of general interest in the topic must have seeped through Harry’s words, because Louis frowned again.

“But you don’t? Want in the business I mean?”

“Not what I hoped I would be doing, no.”, Harry admitted. It felt weird admitting it out loud.

“What do you want to do then?”, Louis leaned forward then, genuinely interested. Harry remembered Louis talking about how he bought the book shop, the moment he saw it and how it just felt right and he knew this is where he was supposed to end up and he felt ridiculous because he wasn’t even close to figuring his life that way. He was miles of the right direction actually.

But there was no harm in telling Louis.

“Don’t laugh?”, he squints at Louis and his eyes immediately crinkle in that adorable way, when something surprises him and he is just too amazed to do anything but grin.

“You have my word on it.”, he ends up saying with a more serious tone and Harry caves to the temptation to lean a bit forward still, until they are face to face and he can whisper it out.

“I want to be a writer.”

Louis doesn’t laugh, he doesn’t scoff at him like father did, doesn’t express his worry about how is he supposed to make a living out of it like mum did.

He simply leans a bit closer, his fringe almost touching that curl at the top of Harry’s head that just wouldn’t budge and asks: “What kind?”

Harry almost chokes on air. No one has ever gotten this far in this conversation with him before. Of course, he knows the answer.

“The kind people like to read when they are alone. Not only for fun or distraction or out of necessity. In times when they need to be less alone.”, it escapes his lips before he even gets to think whether Louis would want to know the true answer.

“My favorite kind then.”, Louis mumbles into his oversized sweater.

Harry looks at him and sees just a boy folded in on himself, raw and vulnerable and exposed but not ashamed of it. There is something he envies a bit and admires a whole lot in that.

When he tries to excuse himself to go to that interview half an hour and a conversation about favorite books later, Louis squints at him, mulling something over in his mind, before slamming the tea mug on the table, apparently determined.

“Can I walk you there?”, he asks and Harry’s mouth dries a little bit more in shock.

“It’s just, well… I won’t be opening the shop today and you were kind of the entire company I have for today, so… You are nice company?”, he asks the last bit, quirking his eyebrow and he has Harry wrapped around his little finger in a moment.

“If you want, yeah.”, he nods eagerly.

Louis locks the door after himself and Harry and immediately puts both of his hand in his pocket, like he doesn’t know what to do with them, or himself really. Harry points in their direction and they are walking in silence for a while. It’s not necessarily uncomfortable, but it is kind of tense, many topics to talk about but neither of them seemed willing to start. Then, there is a street artist spraying a landscape on a canvas in front of him. Harry stops and looks, because he is perpetually amazed with the absolute focus talented people know how to put into their art. It is mesmerizing to watch the cliff over a stormy sea coming to life in front of him, kind of reminds him of the images in his head while he is writing words down, immediate and utter rush to trap them on the page, because if he doesn’t, the most important part, the most beautiful one, will escape and his work will be a sore reminder of what could have been. He loves moments like those, because the rush to trap strings of letters sets him free.   
Louis nudges him forward a little bit, pointing towards their turn. Harry knows he is doing it because he thinks Harry doesn’t want to be late for this interview, when really, he would rather stay here and look at this man paint than see whoever the “high-profile successful CEO” was.

He keeps walking though and Louis asks him about the painting and whether he liked it. Harry says he liked the freedom in painting whatever you wanted on the corner of the street without a particular care about who likes it. It’s true and they both know what Harry meant while saying it. But admitting that he is doing something against his will just because his life would go to absolute hell if he didn’t, well…

They are almost at the office, a skyscraper that looks like a blemish on an otherwise serene part of the city, when Harry really starts to panic. And it’s not about Louis, or rather it’s not about Louis being there, but the fact the he will be gone in a couple of minutes and the whole reason for Harry getting up that morning is going to disappear.

It is exactly at that moment that Louis stops and looks at him, concentrated and adorable, leaning on a bus stop sign.

“You look all business-y today, you know? Not sure I like your hair when you try to tame it.”, he says. Harry is quiet and ashamed, looking at his shoes.

“But good luck on that meeting. They ought to like it.”, Louis adds and he is smiling, Harry knows he is. But the problem is that he doesn’t want to have him smile about this. He wants to treasure the boy that knows how to read when Harry is pretending he cares and when he really tries and what he lives for, not have him smiling like he thinks this is what Harry is going to do. Because he isn’t. It’s decided really, and no matter the life he has to live, a stubborn Harry has always known how to stick to what he decided.

“I’m not doing it.”, he realizes that he is really going to do it while he is saying it and Louis snaps his head up to look at him, waving it away like he doesn’t get it.

“I don’t want that job. I was planning on ruining the interview, but my dad is kind of important, they would have given me the position anyway. But I don’t want it.”, he clarifies and shrugs, like it’s not a big deal he is doing this. Maybe it isn’t. Maybe the bruises his father will give him as soon as he gets home will not be a big deal, because he is with Louis and Louis is smiling like he is amazed at what Harry is doing. He rather likes amazing Louis.

“What then?”, he asks and leans away from the sign he was using for support.

“I don’t know. Whatever.”, Harry says and he steps back in the direction they came from, but Louis grabs his hand and pulls the opposite way. He smiles and Harry follows, giggling and free and feeling lightheaded, because Louis doesn’t let go of his hand. It’s a couple of minutes of Louis pulling him over seemingly random turns later that he snaps out of it, twists his hand in Louis’ slowly, not wanting to give him an impression that he wants to let go. Louis stops anyway and looks down at their hands. Harry swears he sees a hint of a blush on his cheeks. Twisting around, he slides his palm over Louis’ and parts his fingers slowly, intertwining them with his. Louis looks up and smiles at him, looking surprised but pleased and Harry is comforted that his boldness didn’t freak him out. What this means though, he tries not to think about that.

They walk to a nearby park and find a bench that isn’t completely soaked by the rain from this morning. Harry Is relaxed and happy, so he starts talking. Louis looks at him, really looks at him and participates, nodding and laughing and teasing him about everything, but still being the most supportive of what Harry really loves than anyone else in a long time. They are in the middle of discussion about Oscar, a character from that book Louis gave Harry to read, when it starts raining again. Louis yelps and leaps from the bench, grabbing Harry’s forearm again and tugging him after himself. The downpour catches them halfway over the football field. They keep running, but then there is a flash of lightning and Harry freezes idiotically. He never liked lightning and being in the middle of an open field when there is a thunderstorm like this, his fear gets magnified and he just stands there, blinking at the sky, almost like he expects it to strike any moment now. His glasses are obscuring the view though, so he takes them off and cleans them quickly with the sleeve of his shirt, staring at the sky all the while.  
Louis feels that Harry isn’t moving, so he turns around and looks up, asking whether Harry is trying to kill them both. Harry looks down and Louis is blurry, so he pushes his glasses on his face, because he might enjoy having rain fall on his eyelids, but seeing Louis clearly is definitely a priority. Louis’ eyelashes are stuck to his cheeks and he is completely soaked through, his fringe flopping down as he tries to shake it out his eyes. It’s then that Harry realizes he kind of loves him. That scares him, because up till now, he was sure it was a crush and that Louis wasn’t exactly his type. He didn’t have a type though, not before he had a panic attack in front of him.

Louis keeps shouting something at him, tugging at his arm until Harry snaps out of it and takes that step forward, Louis turning around and running in front him immediately after. It’s ok, because Harry now knows what this is and it doesn’t matter that he is running after Louis, because there is no one else he would rather run after instead.

They are at the book shop again, soaked and trembling as Louis tries to unlock the door without too much giggling, because Harry just slipped on four different puddles and got his pants dirty. As the door opens, Louis bursts in and Harry is just after him, slipping on the doormat again. Louis turns around and steadies him, laughing even harder and that’s when it happens. Harry’s glasses have rain drops on them, so he doesn’t see as clearly as he would want, because this is rather important. He leans forward a little bit and Louis stops laughing and copies him. Harry is scared, more than he remembers being when he kissed Lydia back in Holmes Chapel. Louis could push him off, he could laugh and show him out politely and thank him for being friends, or something even worse, so he is frozen again, kind of like he was when staring at the stormy sky back on that football field in the park. Louis does none of those things though. He gets closer and kisses Harry like it isn’t the hardest thing to do. When he feels his lips pressing gently and he can breathe in against Louis’ wet cheek, it really isn’t the hardest thing to do, even if it is the best that has ever been done to him. His hands are gripping Louis at the shoulders a moment later and Louis pushes his own through Harry’s hair over to grip him at the neck, bringing him even closer. Something snaps in Harry and he is surging forward, pushing until Louis is trapped against the nearest bookshelf and he breathes him in.

They slow down when Louis drags his hands across Harry’s cheeks and cups his face, tilting it down so he can kiss him deeper. Harry smiles in the kiss and he can feel Louis’ lips stretching into a smile of their own, making this kissing business almost impossible, but neither gives up on it nevertheless.

Niall and Zayn bursting through the door, laughing loudly and freezing as soon as they spot the two of them pushed against the bookshelf is what stops them. Harry jumps away a little, panicking almost that it’s Jackson, or his dad, who would kill him for this, but Louis slides his hands down over the wet shirt on Harry’s arms and pulls him a bit closer, right as Niall and Zayn start apologizing. Louis looks deadly, like he will have them apologizing forever, probably with screaming involved too.

“Um, sorry.”, Harry says and Louis looks at him like he is crazy for apologizing to two idiots for interrupting a perfect kiss. Which, in retrospect, he kind of is.

“I… Maybe I should go and dry off at home this time?”, Harry steps back, distantly aware that Niall and Zayn have been waved off somewhere by Louis’ dismissive hand wave. Louis goes after him and ducks his head, rubbing at his temples. It’s silent long enough for Harry to think that this is all it will come to, an awkward goodbye and perhaps a polite visit from time to time, so he hangs his head down and turns around to go. Louis grabs him once again, gripping tightly over the wet shirt and Harry turns around.

“I… Are we ok?”, Louis asks, unsure and hesitant and that is completely ridiculous, because Louis could have anything he wanted, anything he asked, if Harry could give it to him, he would.

“Of course. Just, I get if this was weird for you..”, he trails off, because how is he supposed to ask Louis whether they can do this again, forever possibly.

“’S not weird. Trust me. Mind blowing, possibly, but weird doesn’t even come close to it.”, Louis says, smiling.

“All right. See you soon?”

“You know you don’t have to go, alright? You can stay here.”, Louis adds and grips tighter at his arm, not letting go. Harry is charmed by it, even though he feels the need to go, because he needs to think about this for a few hours. It’s been too much, or it hasn’t been nearly enough, and that scares him.

He nods and quirks his lips at the right end, having Louis’ eyes follow the dimple he knows is prominent on his cheek and then the smaller boy is up on his toes, kissing Harry quickly.

“Don’t disappear on me again.”, he whispers against Harry’s lips and Harry trembles at that.

“Let me take you out tomorrow, yeah?”, he says, feeling his voice also trembling, because he didn’t think this was going to happen when he got out of bed this morning.

Louis nods, smiling wide and brightening the universe. Or Harry could be subjective there. This time, he ducks his head and presses a kiss to Louis’ grin, clumsy but desperate and he kind of gets the point across, he thinks. The stormy sky is not scary at all when he steps out of the book shop.


	4. Chapter 4

Louis can’t shake off the feeling that Harry is constantly ready for everything to fall apart. Whatever it is they are having, Louis can’t remember the last time he felt like this about anyone and he is hell bent on not screwing it up.

In essence, it goes excellent. He is excited and nervous, more than he remembers being for any date he was ever getting ready for. Zayn and Niall teased him as he bustled around his apartment trying on clothes and shoes and hats and beanies and he was certain that something would go wrong. But at 8 o’clock sharp he opens the door and Harry is there, smiling and blinking at him like he is at least a little bit impressed with the choice of the dark blue shirt and dark jeans rolled up at the ankles. It’s simple and effective, or Louis likes to think as he sees Harry scan him over, shy and blushing but so, so excited. Harry Is wearing a shirt himself, plain black and elegant, with dress pants. Louis would feel underdressed, but he has seen what Harry wears usually and this is frankly not a lot different, so he doesn’t panic. They wear what they wear and what use would they have of pretending?

There is something else though. He can’t stop thinking how Harry is hiding a lot, a big part of what he really is and how he wants to behave and appear. It pulls Louis in. It’s just beneath the surface of Harry’s pale skin, just ready to be coaxed out and Louis can’t wait to do it, because this seemingly serious, responsible, too-old-for-his-own-good boy has recently given up on a job interview on a whim and it seemed natural to him. The spontaneous, smiley, cheeky persona peaking out was mesmerizing. It was like watching a caterpillar changing into a butterfly right before his very eyes and that made him giddy as fuck. He has already fallen for the damn caterpillar.

Harry smiles and blinks and says the proper greetings, as he is there to court Louis and fuck… He loves this boy. Which wasn’t supposed to happen, not now and not with him, not when he has two criminals hiding in his bedroom, giggling at how him and Harry are adorable, and a bookstore that covers up the truth about his entire life. He smiles though, because maybe Harry can see through him as much as he can see through Harry and maybe it’s alright, because he likes what he sees.

“I am sorry.”, are the first words out of Harry’s mouth and Louis is frowning, panicking slightly that he is here just to apologize for making a mistake and asking Louis out in the first place. Before he can outright panic, Harry shrugs and crosses his arms in front of himself, ducking his head so that the curls fall in front to hide his face.

“I am overdressed, I know, it’s just that there isn’t much else that I have and is nice enough…”, he says and Louis is grinning.

“Trying to leave an impression Curly?”, he teases and leans away from the door.

Harry smiles and shrugs once again. Louis is so far gone that he doesn’t even dwell on the fact that they will not look good together ,fidgety and mismatched as they are. Who cares? He got asked out and even though it isn’t perfect on the surface, it is tingly and perfect deep down, at the only place where it matters.

“Mission accomplished then. You look nice.”, he says and leans in, noticing that Harry isn’t flinching away but smiling softly as Louis closes that gap and presses their lips together. It makes him giddy and elated that he can now lean in and kiss these lips. So he does it again and again and again and maybe it takes about 15 minutes for them to make it outside and close the bookshop, their eyes shining and lips already swollen. Harry is a great kisser, Louis concludes when they finally get outside and there is a fog in his head from how dazed he feels. Harry shakes his head to adjust the curls and that move he repeats often makes Louis smile again.

“Where are you taking me?”, he asks and Harry bites his lip.

It ends up being a dinner and a movie and while they giggle over the plot of the comedy they don’t quite keep track of, mostly because Louis keeps up with the commentary that makes Harry laugh too much to pay attention, Louis is enjoying the way he can make Harry blush with random pecks to his cheeks. He doesn’t remember ever being this corny and that is a feat in itself. He also doesn’t remember ever getting kicked out of the movie theatre before the movie is even finished just for talking and not starting a popcorn war with Zayn. Harry looks mortified and ashamed and apologizes honestly, blinking his damn green eyes at the girl in charge, telling them they have to leave. She stares at him and is dangerously close to begging him to stay and possibly give her his phone number, but Louis grabs his hand and pulls him out, taking special care to giggle in the crook of Harry’s neck and making sure that the bitch sees it all, including the kiss he plants on Harry’s lips outside, to stop him panicking about how this ruined their date.

“I don’t want you to worry about this, alright?”, he whispers in Harry’s ear and if he notices that the boy is shivering, well that just makes the night better.

The dinner is at some hipster, organic-food-only restaurant that they stumble across. Harry tries to pretend he has never been there, but there is a bouncy waitress named Lou that comes by and hugs him like they are best friends that talk on daily basis, so Louis laughs. Latter, when they end up walking to Louis’ bookstore and snogging on a few random park benches along the way, Harry explains that Lou sometimes comes to cook for his father and their guests, so he knows her well and she is nice and a good friend. Only a good friend, he adds and Louis frowns at him until Harry stops teasing him about that possessive tantrum he had in front of the girl that kicked them out of the cinema.

Louis invites him in, of course he does, but Harry shakes his head no and says he has obligations home. There is something slightly annoyingly charming about his gentleman act. Maybe the fact that it’s hardly an act if he really is a true Prince Charming, which seems legitimate. Laughing, Louis tries for the door before Harry grabs him and pushes him against it. It’s dark outside and the street seems vacant enough, so there is no one to claim mental scarification at the way the two of them grip at each other, kissing heavily and groping (Harry has those big hands that seem to be everywhere at once, Louis concludes). Louis laughs against Harry’s cheek when they stop for a moment to catch their breaths and if Harry has both of his palms gripping Louis’ ass, he doesn’t seem to mind at all. Neither does Harry mind the way Louis is pulling at his hair and just as he is about to open the middle button on Harry’s shirt, he pulls back and shakes his head like he is resisting.

“Jesus Louis. You’ll make me stay!”, he says and Louis is smiling, aiming for a smirk but somehow winding up with a dopey grin.

“So stay.”

Harry shakes his head again and steps a little bit back, taking Louis’ hand as he goes and bringing it to his lips to kiss the back of it. Louis is standing there open-mouthed, not believing that there is an actual guy alive that will first snog the hell out of him in a public place and then distance himself like an old fashioned gentleman. Harry wants to make this last, adorably but honestly. He is dragging it out, almost like he is scared he is going to use up the magic if he dives all in and who is Louis to argue with that? He might be more aggressive, but he is content to play by Harry’s rules now.

“You are something else Styles.”, he says and cradles his hand back to his chest.

“When will I see you again?”, Harry asks.

Louis has a plan. Boy, does he have a plan.

“You free tomorrow?”, he sees Harry’s eyes widen a bit, perhaps surprised that Louis wants to see him so soon.

“Come by around 7 then? I am taking you to band practice.”, Harry’s eyes widen comically at that.

“Really? Me?!”, he asks and his eyebrows remain up, creasing his forehead adorably.

“Yes, you, who else?”, Louis says and makes it look effortless, while he is really trying to impress with the ridiculous project him and Zayn and Niall started a while ago, hoping to seem cool and seductive while really? If Harry refuses to show up tomorrow, he might spend practice huddled with a piece of paper in the corner, sniffling his way through a few lyrics about curls and green eyes.

“Ok.”, Harry nods quickly, seeming more than up for it and then grins, leaning towards Louis to peck his nose and then his lips.

Later, Louis debates with himself about how Harry seems to be waiting for this fairytale to snap in two. And while Louis is hard-wired to be a realist in life, he can’t help but feel that there is a fairytale ending to them, somewhere along the road. When he falls on his bed upstairs that night, he smiles into his pillow like a besotted teenage girl and dreamily tells both of his best friends to fuck off with the teasing. Harry is perfect and he is in love and he is going to see Harry tomorrow and life is great.

***

Life is great. Then Harry shows up around 7 and life is brilliant.

Louis is alone, Zayn and Niall already gone to Josh’s house garage, where they practice. He is cleaning perfectly clean shelves. Doing those kinds of things is only characteristic for an extremely nervous Louis. And the reason would be that he just realized that he has to sing in front of Harry soon. He never had faith in his vocal or generally musical abilities and very few people knew about them in the first place, but this was something entirely different. Even if he didn’t think he was good at it, music was a huge part of his life and he wanted Harry to like all of him. Or rather, most of him, excluding the associated-with-criminals part. What if Harry doesn’t like it?

He is so immersed in not panicking too visibly, because he can’t just cancel this now, Harry is coming and last night it seemed like the entire world was his, so what was one band practice? Then, 7 o’clock sharp, because Harry is annoyingly perfect at etiquette, the bell above the door chimes. Louis turns around and his jaw drops to the (just repeatedly cleaned) floor.

It’s Harry, clearly, who else would it be? First, there’s the beanie, a green blob above Harry’s curls, then there is the plain white T-shirt that is visibly crooked to the side and dropping over (Louis lost it here) skinny jeans, ripped at the knees and hugging Harry’s mile long lens right into the brown suede boots which, well… Louis is staring, he knows he is, it’s just that he can’t very well move or try being coherent if the geeky guy he fell for is stood before him looking like a rock star on his day off.

Harry seems a bit lost too, to be honest. He stands straight, his legs gripping to each other like he is a schoolgirl and then he raises one lanky hand from its previous place being clasped behind his back and fucking waves. Louis is going to rip his perfectly styled fringe out of his head because of this.

They are going to be monstrously late for practice of course, because before Harry manages to speak Louis is on him, stretching on his tiptoes to grab the taller boy’s head and bring him down, kissing like a maniac and stroking his scalp beneath the beanie, pulling him in until Harry snaps out of it and pushes back. They resurface later, with Harry panting against Louis’ neck, his hands beneath his T-shirt, as Louis sits on the counter of his bookshop, legs wrapped around Harry’s torso. They look like they are going to fuck, Louis know it. He also knows they won’t, because the “too fast” warning Harry gave him last night is still present. But Louis might just kill him for pulling this of then, because he had it hard enough to restrain himself while Harry was just a lanky geek and this…

“I might decide to dress like this more often then…”, Harry whispers in Louis’ neck and he is the one shivering this time, wondering what the fuck happened to the shy guy?

“You said band practice and I was thinking that I don’t want to embarrass you by coming in dress pants again, so I called Lou and she helped.”, Harry explains.

“You wouldn’t embarrass me. Whatever you wore. You look great, but whatever you came in, I wouldn’t ever be embarrassed to take you anywhere.”, Louis shook his head and frowned. He didn’t like Harry’s explanation.

“I know, just… I wanted to get it right this time.”, he clarified and Louis couldn’t help but realize that he was talking about how the two of them together looked now. Still, he didn’t like the change if it was because of this.

“You don’t need to change the clothes because of what I wear Harry. Don’t change because of me.”

“I’m not changing because of you! I usually wear things to fit the occasion and I never had a reason to dress like I have a social life until now.”, Harry rolled his eyes initially and then blushed as he realized what he just said. Louis was looking at him carefully, waiting for the moment where he breaks and realizes this isn’t working or he is scared or something worse, but nothing happens.

Slowly, he takes Harry’s hand and copies his move from last night, leaning down to kiss the back.

“I think you’re awesome.”, he says and Harry is smiling and rolling his eyes like he doesn’t care, but a brief flash of surprise and joy that shows on his face speaks a different story. Louis wasn’t one for cheesy speeches about realized self-worth, but it didn’t seem like Harry needed one. He needed someone to support him while he figured it out on his own though.

***

They were late and Niall and Zayn giggled and teased Louis as soon as they came in. Josh was already sitting behind his drum set, rolling his eyes at Zayn and Niall cuddling and shouting obscenities behind the keyboard. Harry blushed a bit and then laughed like he didn’t give a damn. Louis was proud of it, provoking him to simply smile wider.

He got behind the microphone in the front and Niall was getting the guitar ready, Zayn teasing the keys gently. This was easy, the “getting into it” part. He was familiar with the tingling in his chest right before the strumming of the guitar started the intro, coveted it, the bare and simple feeling of honest soul he poured into lyrics. It was known to him, ever since he was a teenager and Zayn and Niall found his lyrics lying around, immediately claiming they should make a band. It was a part of his childhood, turned the part of him, so introducing Harry to it was a weird experience.

Closing his eyes, he nodded to Niall and the chords began, not the loud and exaggerated sounds he usually used to warm himself and the guitar up, but the gentle, almost timid sounds that blended perfectly with Zayn’s part of the intro. Even without seeing them, Louis could hear that they were giving their best to make him sound good. They knew how important this was and they were supportive. Smiling and proud and suddenly confident, Louis breathed in and started on “Look After You”.

It goes well, up to the end of the first verse, where his voice cracks at “separate” and his eyes snap open before he can stop it. There is Harry staring at him, eyes glassed over and his mouth forming a soft “o”, so he stumbles over the next cord too, missing the start of the chorus. Niall, Zayn and Josh don’t stop though, just repeat it like they know and they are willing to wait it out. Louis can practically hear their silent glances exchanged behind his back, so grips the mic tighter and wants to make the tiny garage resonate like it sometimes does with the force of his emotions. Harry doesn’t stop staring though, instead blinks and shakes himself out of whatever state he sank into, stretching his lips in one of those beaming smiles Louis grew to love. It makes it ok, whatever happens, because Harry likes this. He looks like he loves it even, so Louis keeps singing.

When the song is over, and he hasn’t broken eye contact with Harry, not even for a second, he is holding his breath still. Harry clasps his hands in front of his face and rubs them together, like he is trying to summon his thoughts together. All he can manage is a smile though, wide and sincere and Louis knows he can keep singing now.

They joke and laugh too, comfortable and relaxed now that the burden of Harry’s reaction is out of the way. Niall is determined to snog Zayn out of a perfect sequence and he almost succeeds, but Zayn has a lot of years of practice in resisting his boyfriend. Josh finds Louis’ annoyed shout hilarious. It goes fast and before he knows it, practice ends in Niall’s decision to go grab a pint in a pub down the street, so Josh decides to join him, having already drunk all the alcohol he has in the house. Zayn is dragged along with them, surely to give Louis and Harry privacy. Louis is only keeping track of this with half of his brain, because the other half is too engrossed in Harry, who came up to him as soon as he stood up from the mic and stayed perfectly still just staring at him. Then all of the others are out and Harry grabs him and pulls him in, managing to smirk once more before snogging him. They end up in one of the armchairs in the corner, Harry sitting down with Louis in his lap and even though the kisses should turn heated, they turn simply sweet instead. In the middle of it, Harry starts laughing and Louis pulls back, slightly offended.

“What?!”, he shouts, jokingly smacking Harry across the shoulder.

“I am dating a rock star!”, Harry laughs louder and Louis is too delighted over “dating” to even pretend to be offended.

It’s a whole hour later when they join the boys in the pub and Louis can’t remember being happier since he moved to London. His best friends are well and happy and not in prison and Josh is chatting up a random girl over at the next table, grinning like a Cheshire cat, he has his boyfriend by his side and generally all is well in life.

He is so happy that he doesn’t put up much of a fight when Harry insists that he doesn’t need to be walked home. Partly drunk and giddy as he is, he lets himself he snogged against the entrance of the pub again and then dragged into the cab with Niall and Zayn, as Harry stays standing on the curb and waves him off. He would repent for not putting up more of a fight and even for not asking Harry about what is wrong and is he ashamed of Louis later.

But later comes the following morning and the following days, when Harry doesn’t pick up the phone, just texts randomly that he is fine and that he is busy and all other crap in that fashion, making Louis’ insides curl up and twist from fear. He doesn’t remember ever feeling this for anybody else and even though Harry is perfect, there is evidently something happening with Harry that is very much not perfect. It hurts, but he is more worried out of his mind, because Harry’s “I’ll call you later.” just doesn’t sound right.

The tries calling but Harry never picks up, always apologizing later, saying he was busy and that he himself will call later. He never does, just texts “Goodnight” and “Good Morning” and “I hope you are well.” and “I miss you.”

“Then come and see me, you idiot!”, Louis wants to scream at him, but Harry is not available. He tries figuring out what Harry’s address is, but it doesn’t work out, because Harry seems determined to keep his home life separated from him. That makes Louis wonder whether he is just a dirty little secret to the boy he has fallen for, but he can’t even imagine Harry being like that.

So he keeps living days out and he waits, hoping.

What actually comes through the door isn’t what he was hoping for. It’s a rainy day, much alike the one when he met Harry and when he stumbles through the door, Louis is startled first. Then he is simply terrified, because there is Harry, soaked to the skin as expected and bruised and bloodied, as very, very unexpected.


	5. Chapter 5

It’s one of those pained facial expressions people have when there is a giant’s hand inside their chest and it squeezes everything, heartbeat and lungs out of sync and little choked sobs are about to escape. Harry recognizes it, perfectly, too familiar for his liking. And he is in pain because he put that expression on Louis’ face, made for laughter, delight and mischief. Louis doesn’t deserve this mess, he never did. He knows he shouldn’t have returned, even that first time when he showed up to thank him, while he really wished to cling to someone to save him. He can’t be saved. The absolute worst is that Louis is now in this tragic horror of existence, tied and about to be messed up as much as Harry is.

He breathes through the pain and continues lingering on the doorstep, all too aware that there are now drops of blood from somewhere on his face on the doormat. The bell above the door is just about to calm down when Louis snaps out of it and slides over the floor towards Harry. He wants to go in and dry off and have the blood wiped off of him and possibly allow himself to be hugged while he cries this of, because God knows he needs it. But there is that other part of him that feels guilty for burdening Louis with this and he entertains a thought of turning around and leaving Louis to his life, sound of the bell chiming trapped on the inside and a bloodied doormat on the outside, closed off and distant. He doesn’t. Maybe it’s because he knows he can’t just stop feeling or wanting the warmth of the bookshop and Louis’ arms, ready to enfold around him. And maybe it’s just because Louis is close now and he is grabbing him by the arms and pulling inside, desperation and worry seeping through the initial shock on his face. His arms are bruised though and Louis grabs the spot where father grabbed him last night and he hisses and flinches away. Louis’ eyes widen and his lower lip trembles a little bit, almost unnoticeable, but still real. He doesn’t let Harry go though, just adjusts the grip on Harry’s arms and ushers him inside.

“Where does it hurt?”, he asks and his voice sounds collected, trained posture and controlled attitude. He looks like he has done this patching up at least a dozen times. Confused, Harry shrugs and points at his face, where he knows he has one swollen eye and a broken arcade. His nose isn’t broken, but the jaw is aching, there are fingerprint bruises on his neck, from that first night a week ago when father came home and found out that Harry didn’t show up at the interview. The bruises on the arms are from last night, after Jackson spoke his part about who Harry has been hanging out these last few days.

Louis doesn’t let him sit down in his armchair downstairs but takes him upstairs to the apartment. His hands are gentle but firm and he never stops touching, Harry’s back, neck, stomach, arms, hair. It would be strange, but the way Louis is looking at him, like he is water and Louis is trying to cup his hands around it for that one moment before it seeps through… It hurts. The good kind of hurt.

“Can you get this off by yourself?”, Louis asks, pointing at the wet shirt and stained trousers Harry is wearing and he nods. Louis gets lost in the bathroom and the sound of running water distracts Harry while he peels the clothes off of his body. He doesn’t get to think about the nerves of being nearly naked in front of Louis until he is back in the room and staring at him when Harry turns around, the boxers inadequate to hide anything. And there is a lot of things Harry would prefer to hide in this moment, mostly regarding the bruises and an occasional scratch down his back, from when father grabs him when he huddles in the corner of the house somewhere. It’s not easy to breathe in and rise his eyes to meet Louis’ , but he has to do it, because he knows he loves him and even though pity would probably kill him, disgust would ground him into the floor, so he has to know. Louis is looking at him like he is torn between pulling his hair out and punching the wall though, so Harry thinks he can deal with anger. Anger is something he knows very well.

It’s under the shower, when the warm water that Louis triple-checked the temperature of touches his back and the little bit of dried blood on his cheek is gone, the fresh blood stopping for a moment until he stupidly rubs at the cut above his eye, that Harry feels like crying. Showers do that to people, perhaps because the privacy hides everything and the warmth tends to bring out so much. But he isn’t alone. Behind the sliding door, there is Louis’ figure, his back turned because Harry knows he won’t look, not now because he will not try to make him more nervous and perhaps maybe not ever again because he must be disgusted at this. Or not. Maybe Louis sees who Harry is, beneath this and maybe he likes that person . It’s possible, or at least Harry tells himself so, because no matter the horror, he refuses to let his personality crumble. He is stronger than this. He has to be. He found Louis and now he has somewhere to turn to when his father beats him hard enough to bruise emotionally (which is rare, being as numb as he is). But no matter the burden, while he keeps quiet and doesn’t put Louis in danger, he can rely on this comfort. When he is finished, he opens the door of the shower and Louis is there still, his back turned and spine straight up, hands holding a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt on his back. It’s adorable and when Harry quietly steps out, discarding the towel on the floor and opting for naked instead, he isn’t as nervous as he thought he will be. He trusts Louis and whatever happens, well…

When he goes to grab the sweatpants and puts them on, a little bit short and wide on his hips, one of Louis’ hands on the back is left free, so he grabs his chance and intertwines their fingers, squeezing gently.

“Thank you.”, he whispers and Louis is quiet when he squeezes back and turns around slowly, bringing their hands up to press his lips against Harry’s knuckles. There are no marks on them, Louis sees it and Harry knows that he can’t lie about a fight now, because he obviously didn’t try to fight back while he was beaten. He waves his head and looks at Harry’s eyes, serious and soothing and there is no rush. But the questions are going to be inevitable. The entire right side of his face, including the lips, is bruised, so Louis leans in and presses a kiss against the left one, chaste and lingering. He doesn’t pull back, keeps his head close and his hands on Harry’s arms, gentle while they flutter until settling on his waist.  
“I didn’t ask, not back then when you collapsed in front of the shop. I thought being a private person was important to you, so I didn’t ask when you disappeared for days and all I got were texts. But I have to ask now, because this is you hurt, again, and I can’t ignore it.”

Harry is drawn in. He wants to forget about why he came here, why he needs to get the cut above his eye treated before he stains something else and he wants to forget that Louis has every damn right to ask the questions. Shrugging, he goes to exit the bathroom, but Louis releases a desperate cry through his lips and it makes him turn around.

“It’s cold, your hair is wet. Get the shirt on and let me look at that cut.”, he says, shaking his head and looking at anything but Harry.

“I’ll mess up your shirt Louis…”, Harry says, but what he really means is “I’ll mess up this relationship if I keep lying to you.”

“I don’t give a fuck, put it on before you get pneumonia!”, Louis shouts and it’s surprising and frightening. Despair and being powerless are bound to bring that out in Louis. Harry looks at him, brow furrowed and teeth halfway to biting on his hurt lip absentmindedly, before Louis surges forward and stops him by putting his hand on the hurt cheek. They both know that the touch is too gentle to cause pain, but Harry still flinches slightly away, in that “please don’t hit me” involuntary response. Of course Louis sees it and there is a sob that escapes him before Harry can stop it by grabbing his arm.

“I am sorry Louis, just…”, his voice is raspier still and they are two seconds away from a weep fest here.

“Oh God, please don’t! Don’t… apologize, just… Don’t. Put the shirt on baby, please.”

Harry does and the “baby” keeps him halfway to a grin before Louis pulls him to lean on the edge of the bathroom cupboard and gets closer to dab at his cut with an alcohol wipe. His breath keeps ruffling the wisps of Louis’ disheveled hair and even though he hisses when the cut is cleaned and Louis keeps dabbing on his bruises with some cooling, herb-smelling cream, Harry relaxes. It’s almost perfect, looking at this beautiful boy like this, focused, concentrated. If you ignore the way his eyelashes stick together because of the tears Harry didn’t even see falling, or the way he cringes when Harry cranes his neck to give him access to bluish fingerprints where father tried to choke him into submission. Louis glares at them, switching between emotional and angry again, but careful not to scare Harry off.

When he is done, he pulls Harry up and leads him to the couch in the kitchen, where there is a blanket that he drapes over Harry’s shoulders.

“I’m going to make tea.”, he says, but Harry jumps up to grab him and stop this.

“Louis…”

“It’s tradition, yeah? Along with you appearing at the door in different states of disarray and me worrying about you constantly. Let’s keep up with traditions.”, he sounds bitter almost and it scares Harry out of his mind. It sounds like rejection and even though it’s reasonable in this state of affairs, it’s painful like hell.

“I can go? Not bother you again, sorry for this anyway, I was thinking that I actually have someone else to do the patching up this time.”

Louis’ eyes widen and he is trembling, shaking his clenched fists on his sides and biting his lip, staring at Harry like he is crazy, which well… He has a reason to be? And also, if Louis wants things explained to him, first he has to know that he has a way out of this mess, whenever he has enough.

“This time?!”, his voice cracks at it and there is no stopping the tears now when they start flowing over.

“Louis…”

“Don’t Louis me! I… You are not going anywhere until I know you are safe and well and that you are coming back soon and you will answer your phone and you will not be covered in blood when you walk through that door!”, he shouts and it sounds like despair, not violent malice Harry is used to, so he doesn’t get scared, just shakes his head and goes to tuck his hands under his armpits.

“I will do anything to keep you safe, but I can’t do it if you keep not telling me, do you get it?”, he whispers and Harry is still not looking at him.

“Me not telling you is what’s keeping you safe though.”, he says back and Louis seems surprised for a second. Then he just slumps on the couch and grabs Harry’s hand to sit beside him.

“Why don’t you let me decide about that? I will never tell anybody, whatever it is, I’ll do whatever you ask of me, just to keep you safe.”, he says, gently rubbing on Harry’s hand, still trying to catch his eye.

Harry tries to think about it, but there is no more energy to lie in him. If he keeps lying, he is going to lose this for sure. And while he is scared of anyone finding out, the only crippling fear he has currently is that Louis is going to let him go. He wishes he was a stronger person, someone who could walk out and never look back and remember only vaguely that there was a boy he might have grown to love, someplace along the road, but he isn’t. His life is hell and he kept on walking long enough, there is a shelter for him now, so why would he ever try to get himself out of it? As long as Louis doesn’t speak about it…

“Ok.”, he breathes out and Louis leans up to kiss his forehead and then his hair, cradling him like a child to his chest.

When he starts speaking, he isn’t looking at Louis, but it’s hard because he keeps fidgeting and squeezing Harry tighter as the story goes, like he has mental images of each punch flashing across his mind and he himself is flinching back. First there is the confession, which Harry always thought would feel like failing. It actually feels like relief.

“My father beats me up. Often.”

Louis tenses at that but there is no shock at his features. He nods and grips tighter, so that Harry feels him clinging. It should be the other way around perhaps, but when were they ever in line with “should be”?

After that, the tale of how he moved to London because he wanted to help his family and he thought it was a grown-up, mature thing to do, a thing a man taking care of his own would do, spins into when father first realized that what he has in his house isn’t a carbon-copy of himself and that Harry doesn’t want a fancy degree or a career in rowing, or to be anything that was planned for him. Louis listens and frowns and nods and rubs at his temple but never lets go of him. When he tells him how the first beating happened, when Harry ditched rowing practice to join a poetry reading at a school trip, Louis visibly shakes with something between anger and disbelief. He explains how he was bullied in school by Jackson and his idiotic crew and how he got into a fight with Jackson just once, only to get beaten up and called into the principal’s office, only to have his father meet Jackson’s mother and his personal hell was tailor-made. Father asked Jackson to “take care of my idiot of a son”. Louis clenches his fists against Harry’s shoulders when he admits why he was wet that day when he collapsed in front of the bookshop.

When he asks about the panic attack, Harry explains about missing his mother and sister and looks at Louis with much more emotion than he usually allows himself, only to find him looking back teary-eyed and smiling at the descriptions of his family.

“So you won an award that day? What for?”, Louis asks, combing through Harry’s hair with his fingers.

“Academic excellence.”, Harry mumbles and Louis chuckles.

It’s absolutely irrelevant, except it isn’t because Louis is trying to make this easier on him, and also showing an interest in Harry’s life. All new, surprising, making-him-feel-good things.

“Of course. My brilliant boyfriend. Your mum and sister sound like lovely people by the way.”, Louis adds burying his face in Harry’s hair. It’s a way to make it easier on both of them, to have time to collect themselves before going anywhere further.

“They would love meeting you. And I could properly introduce you and mum would never get angry…”, he trails off and Louis tenses behind him.

“That is why he is doing this to you now? Because you are dating me?”, the words are hard and unforgiving and Harry suddenly blanches because Louis could possibly think that this is his fault somehow.

“No! Not because of the… dating. He doesn’t know about it. I would never… If he ever finds out he is going to hurt you Louis and that, no, just no!”,

Louis’ hands are shaking and he lines his forehead up with Harry’s.

“No. You have to know this now and forever. Nobody is hurting me for dating you. Never going to happen. Stop worrying about it and try thinking only of yourself, ok?”, he says quietly.

Harry shakes his head but Louis pulls him in by the curls and seals the promise with gentle kisses along Harry’s left jawline.

“Trust me, yeah?”, he asks and Harry nods, because that he can do, even if he is going to be careful not to show what he feels in public ever again.

“Why did he beat you this time?”

Louis crawls on his lap for this one and adjusts so he can look him in the eye.

“When I got home that night, after seeing you, father was home for the first time in days. He heard about the interview I didn’t show up at and well… He was proper angry and tried to make me promise that I am going to go tomorrow. I refused and then he started beating me, but nothing more than usual.”, he falls quiet after that, ashamed that there even is “a usual amount of getting beat up”. Louis scoffs and strokes over Harry’s cheek until he looks up.

“The bruises and cuts are fresh love. What happened?”

“Well, he made me spend the next few day home, wouldn’t let me out, because there were bruises over my neck and he couldn’t let anyone see, but… Yesterday, Jackson and his mother came by and Jackson told him about… Well, I didn’t even know that he ever went to that part of London, I never expected…”, he is quiet again, but Louis has stopped with the caresses and is stiff and still.

“He saw us together, didn’t he? He told your father and you got beat up because I was drunk and snogged you in public?”, his words are angry and he is tense, visibly blaming himself somehow, which Harry can’t stand.

“No! That is not your fault and he didn’t see that. I don’t know how, but he didn’t. All he saw was me hanging out with you guys, Niall, Zayn, Josh, at that bar probably, must have been brief, but he never told him anything about… us. But father was angry, said I was not capable of making friends and I don’t have any friends and how you guys must be some idiots that are somehow trying to get to him over me and how he is going to make sure I’ll never be that stupid ever again…And he did. He beat me up last night, shook me up pretty bad because he dragged me all over the house and… this morning, he smacked me across the eye as soon as I walked out of my room. There was blood, a lot of blood, he must have cut me with a ring or something. I got scared and I ran out and I didn’t know what to do, so I came here. And I’m…”, but Louis stops him with a kiss before he can say he’s sorry and it hurts a little bit because he presses on the bruised side of his lip, forgetting for a moment, but backs away as soon as he realizes.

“Don’t ever say you’re sorry. I want you to stay here, I never want to see you go back there again, do you hear me?! Ever.”

“Louis… I have to go back. He will go out and look for me soon and he will wonder where I got the cut tended to in the first place and if he finds out about us, he will kill me and he will hurt you…”

“Harry. I told you. Nobody is hurting me. Ever. And he’s not going to hurt you either. You can press charges, you could live here, keep studying, I have money…”, he tries and it’s almost charming how much he tries, but Harry knows that would never work. He is doing this to protect people. His mum, Gemma and now Louis, but it doesn’t mean he can just stay away from his father. He can’t even think about what could happen.

“I can’t move in here. No. I’ll go back and I’ll tell him I went to Lou. He must never know about us, I told you. Ever. Maybe… maybe I can come here from time to time? Just when Jackson isn’t following me for sure and maybe we can continue this. I mean, if you want? I’ll understand if you want me to leave you alone, I get it…”

Louis stops him again, but this time he looks angry at Harry.

“Don’t you ever think about disappearing on me again, you hear me?! I’m not ending this, no way. We’ll think of something and you’ll be safe, I promise.”, the words are so decisive that Harry almost believes that Louis has some magical solution.

“How?”

“Jackson. Can you perhaps show me how he looks online? I have my ways…”

“Louis, that is ridiculous, you come near him, father will know, you can’t!”

Louis smiles at that and shrugs, a picture of someone who has a card up his sleeve.

“He will never again talk shit to your father about you, I swear. And relax about it. I will not mess it up, he won’t even know what hit him, don’t worry, ok? But after, if you insist on going back to your father’s place, you lie to him and you come here often and we’ll figure the rest out, alright?”

Harry is set to rebel against this idiotic idea, but Louis won’t hear of it.

“Not alone anymore Curly. I’ll get you out of this. I swear.”, he says with a glint in his eye and Harry stares at him. Resilient, determined, devilishly provoking something out of fate with the look he keeps throwing life’s way, it’s a magnificent sight. He looks like a wildcard character from the movies, a hero with secrets that keeps his promises and for a second, just for a second, Harry smiles, because how do you not believe in what Louis Tomlinson swears to you?


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is from Zayn’s POV. I’ve never written him as a character, so it was a challenge. Again :-) Hope you like!

Zayn stares at Louis for a long while before asking the question.

“Do you love him?”

It isn’t spoken loudly, but Louis still flinches away from it, like he is afraid to face the truth. Zayn is worried that he is truly lying to himself about what exactly this Harry lad means to him, but then Louis hides a smile in intertwined fingers and shakes the fringe over his eyes.

“Yes.”, he whispers back and Zayn is amazed for a moment. Louis has been guarded for so long, probably since Niall and himself got together and Louis went through a string of idiots back home. This confidence and pride Louis is bursting with are mesmerizing and he would rather keep his friend just like this, besotted and happy.

“I have known you for 20 years and you have never told me that you loved anyone except me and Niall.”, he says and Louis looks up at him, shrugging like he doesn’t need to justify why he loves this particular idiot. And taking into account the urgency with which he explained why and from whom the lad needs protection, Zayn is not as surprised as he thought he would be.

“Does that change what I am asking you to help me with?”, Louis asks and squints at him.  
Zayn rarely lies, mostly because of the two important people in his life, Niall would know before he even finished the sentence and Louis would trust him without a doubt. He is not about to gamble with that trust.

“I would make that prick stop molesting Harry without you asking me to do it Louis. Harry is a nice, decent lad and I hate seeing people like him hurt for no reason. But I’m not helping you with this one.”, he finishes the sentence and Louis’ eyes widen only slightly before he manages to conceal it.

“I get it, too dangerous. You’re probably right.”, Louis says and the way he gives up would be a giveaway that he is going to try some ridiculous individual bravado even if Zayn didn’t know him like the back of his hand.

“What I meant is that you will not be taking part in the “taking care” of that Jackson guy. That is completely dangerous, yes, and I don’t want you to even think about it again. Pretend you never knew anything about this, whoever asks. And in that, let me take care of it.”

“Zayn!”, Louis shouts at him, the first sound breaking out from the otherwise quiet whispering and Zayn would rather avoid waking Niall up in the next room.

“Be quiet! Actually, shut up entirely. I know that you think you need to take care of this personally, but you really don’t. Think about it Louis. If that guy ever speaks about who threatened him, it’s going to backfire on your relationship with Harry.”, Zayn tries reasoning and he can almost see it working before…

“Are you suggesting I hide what’s going to happen to Jackson from Harry? Because I will not lie to him, no way!”, he seems offended and Zayn would laugh and remind him that lying and general mindfucking is Louis’ strategy when it comes to guys he dates. Or used to date, apparently.

“No. You’ll tell him that you took care of it, just like I’m telling you I’ll take care of it. And neither of you will know more than is necessary, in case Jackson ever speaks about it and there is trouble coming your way.”

This time it works and Louis nods, brow furrowed and confused, but he still nods. It seems final and Zayn is pleased he managed to protect him. This time. Even if Louis didn’t end up falling for an adorable angel of a boy whose issues apparently have issues, there is that whole thing with Zayn himself being a thief and Louis his cover. There is destruction written over this whole mess in the future, but he doesn’t worry about it immediately. Mostly because it’s Niall’s job to worry constantly and look carefree while doing it, but also because he knows that look in Louis’ eyes and it means that he loves too fiercely and honestly to let go now. Or ever.

***

He isn’t stupid enough to go after Jackson by himself though. And even when he talks about it with Niall, they both agree that it would a smart move to delegate the “job” further. They are smart and know their way around, Zayn tells himself. And he has proof, because you don’t manage to build a name in the criminal circles and survive it if you aren’t. Especially if you’re not the villain, but are actually shooting for Robin Hood status, which they are, no matter what Louis says. Secrecy is of utter importance though, they are into robbing the rich and not being poor as the consequence of it and haven’t got the faintest clue on how to intimidate a dick into not being a dick anymore.

That is how he ends up talking to mortal-enemies-turned-partners-in-crime, the duo of dreams when it comes to interrogations and “making people see sense”: Nicholas Grimshaw and Greg James. They are both lanky, goofy-looking kinds of guys, but Zayn knows that there isn’t a soul in London that dares defy what they want happening. Or, at least, there isn’t a soul that doesn’t regret it thoroughly later on.

Nick accepts the job and even while Niall is happy that they got that sorted out, Zayn can’t help but wonder why Grimshaw didn’t charge the favor with a price bigger than a mediocre painting Zayn stole months ago. It makes no sense. Grimshaw always makes sense.

Jackson is done with, or so Greg reports as they meet in a café across the street from Louis’ book shop. Zayn doesn’t ask for a method, but it had to have been something efficient, because you don’t scare a bully easily by brute force. James is a master of playing games on someone’s mind though, so he doesn’t doubt that the prick will never molest Harry again and will keep his mouth shut in front of Harry’s father.

It had to be done. But how much will it really cost them? Greg and Niall are off being ridiculous over the electrical equipment in a nearby shop when Zayn gets Nick to admit that there is a price. A huge one. And he almost laughs at the irony of it, because this isn’t how this is supposed to go.

“Think he’ll be ready for that date finally? I mean, he is a cute guy with an ass anyone would kill for, but really, no guy has ever made me work for it this much.”

Nick is smirking all the while and Zayn is honestly worried that Louis is going to flat-out kill him as soon as he enters the book shop and tries to charge this. 

“You want Louis to go out with you?! That’s it?”, he sounds as surprised as he feels, because he didn’t even know Nick remembered Louis after that one time he came by the book shop to negotiate Greg’s birthday present – supposedly a book but actually a stolen painting. He flirted with Louis and got refused at least ten time before he went away, leaving a message for Zayn about the painting. Zayn and Niall both thought Nick never came by again, but apparently he did. Louis kept shooting him down though, and no wonder, because you don’t try to seduce Louis Tomlinson by out-sassing him. What makes it worse is that Louis never mentioned a criminal coming by and trying to woo him to either Zayn or Niall and he feels kind of betrayed for a little while. Then he recalls that he just gave the perfect weapon to Grimshaw to destroy Louis’ relationship. The job has been done already and there is no stopping this now. He feels angry but also scared. Things rarely tend not to go his way and this is new territory.

“You are aware that you helped defend his boyfriend by accepting this job, aren’t you?”, he tries reasoning, but just because it worked on Louis doesn’t mean he gets to be that lucky twice in a week.

“Details Malik, details. I want a date, or rather a shag, not him to break up with his boyfriend. If what you told me is true, that prick I had the pleasure of entertaining earlier deserved what I did to him, and that lad Louis is infatuated with seems nice enough through that window. But I want a piece of that ass and the boy doesn’t have to know, does he?”

Louis is going to kill him. He is pissed of enough because Harry noticed that Jackson is flinching away from him for a change three days ago, and he has been going at Louis since then, furious that he jeopardized his safety in some way. He doesn’t know that Zayn and Niall are actually, technically, the guilty ones, so he tries politeness, but it’s easy to tell that he will not forgive this mess easily. There is pride and an endless struggle to look strong involved, stronger than you can be with his life. The amount of resistance he has shown is amazing, but the way him and Louis keep shouting at each other, then crying, then cuddling is a bit too drama for Zayn and the perfectly regular, ordinary relationship he is familiar with.

When this ridiculousness with Nick comes in the picture, Louis is very likely to kill someone. And how will Harry react, well… There is no hiding it from him, because the problem touches Louis directly (or wishes to touch him), so he will use his super sense of being head over arse in love to figure out that the man who made his life easier is hitting on his boyfriend and… Zayn doesn’t know Harry enough to predict, but he aims for somewhere between a breakdown and a tantrum.

Niall comes back, Greg in tow, and him and Grimshaw are gone the next moment, claiming professional obligations. Worried, Zayn admits the new information to his better half, who immediately blanches and then smacks Zayn over the head, just enough to make his quiff bounce.

“Let’s go with Grimshaw you said, really Zayn, I knew it was a fucking bad idea, that cunt is a proper dick!”

Niall never had any control of the stupidities he says when he is worried or pissed off, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t right. He suggested that they hire The Wanted instead of Nick, a group of brutes that would probably put Jackson in the hospital and a lot of publicity on their backs, but that would, in retrospect, probably be better. Zayn went with his own gut feeling though, because he thought Grimshaw will stay discrete and professional, which he did during the execution. But he also suffers from an ego the size of a smaller country. Louis has bruised that ego, which makes him the attractive contest. It’s a high-school-like mess really.

He keeps trying to help and not mess up and usually he succeeds, but when shit happens, Zayn is constantly left wondering how the hell did his life become this demented. 

***

He tries warning Louis about Nick, but taking a hint is hard when you are as excitable as Louis Tomlinson and you are concentrating on snogging the hell out of your boyfriend. They end up giggling while perched on the wooden stairs Louis uses to dust off the highest shelves and Harry’s reading glasses fall off, hitting the ground and breaking off in the place where Niall stitched them up the first time Harry came to the book shop. Niall is again on glasses-fixing duty, whispering with Zayn about when are they going to talk to Louis, but he is too busy reminiscing with Harry about that first time and some argument they had over tea. They are adorable and too sweet. Zayn hopes he managed to protect them properly. Jackson is no longer a threat and Harry’s father is off on a short vacation with Jackson’s mother, so Louis gets to walk his boyfriend home this time, something he can’t wait to do. Niall is panicking about how this is going to go to hell as soon as Nick manages to catch Louis alone. Once again, he is really, painfully right.

Except that Nick doesn’t catch him alone.

They have to leave before Louis gets back from walking Harry home because Josh calls about a drum set he needs transported to his house urgently. When they get back, Louis is already home and, in retrospect, that drum set was not as urgent.

Nick is inside, talking to Louis and they manage to run to the door and open it just in time to hear Nick laughing at something Louis said.

“Come on, Tomlinson. You don’t really want me to leave, do you? After all, there is a thank-you –shag for me to enjoy, considering that I did make life easier for your boyfriend, didn’t I? Where is he by the way, preferably busy long enough for us to do this?”, Nick is cocky and unreasonable as usual and Zayn knows this is the part where Greg usually jumps in to save his stupid life from the shit he gets himself into.

Louis stares at him in that surprised, furious way that comes before he jumps into a physical confrontation and Zayn is ready to jump in and provide Niall some help, because he knows his boyfriend will throw the first punch, he always does.

But Louis freezes in an unexpected way and turns slightly to the stairs leading to the second floor. His expression is horribly painful to watch when he spots Harry standing there, the glasses Niall fixed clutched in his hand, while the other is clenching and unclenching on its own. Even if he wasn’t sure that Harry heard what Nick has said, the trembling of his lower lip and the frown that is rapidly melting into grief children would express if they experienced the heartbreak of Bambi and Toy Story 3 in the same instant would give it away. This is far from a joking matter, because Zayn knows both of them are feeling this, deep and scarring and he is just standing there and watching it happen. Niall is already stuttering away about this being their fault and apologizing to Louis, but he doesn’t hear him, caught in a silent conversation with Harry. He doesn’t like what is being said, his eyes are brimming with tears and he is shaking his head furiously. Harry doesn’t move any muscle in his face though, keeps them frozen in that perpetual pain and surges forward, pushing past Niall and throwing the glasses away. It looks unintentional, but when they hit Nick in the chest Zayn knows it was anything but. Even Grimshaw looks guilty now, biting his lip and flashing his eyes over everyone, waiting for a solution that will fix his mess again. Alas, Greg James probably decided to sleep in today.

To let this situation be solved like this, with Nick holding the ropes, was like giving a gun to a toddler that is exceptionally challenged in judging when play-time is over. Watching it unfold is like living through a badly directed slow motion scene in a movie that would better go unfilmed.

Louis is trying to stop Harry from leaving and yet there are no words spoken. That Is weird, because Louis is rarely quiet, except when he has a novel of words stored away to share and they clog his brain so none of them get out. Grabbing over Harry’s shoulders, he breathes in and is about to start talking when Harry turns around and gently pushes his hands away. It’s probably the hardest thing Zayn ever had to watch, which is why he jumps forward to try and keep Louis in a standing position as Harry storms out.

“This is all my fault.”, Zayn shouts after Harry, but the lad doesn’t pay any attention to him. Desperate, Zayn turns to Niall. The look he gives him is equally horrified and they both know they have to explain this, but the thing is that Zayn is shit at excuses when he knows he is to blame. So Niall gets it, taps him on the shoulder, rubbing over Louis’ hand and runs after Harry. It will have to be enough, the reasoning that Niall has to offer and Zayn has faith in it, because this is his mess and his man is going to fix it. That’s the way they work, since forever.

It’s just that Louis is the one laughing away at that mess usually, not trying to breathe and silently screaming at him to fucking do something. He is never letting go, but Harry was the one who just demonstrated the letting go part and Louis can’t even breathe through it, let alone stay calm.

“Will you get the fuck out?!”, Zayn shouts at Nick and it’s really only because he can’t deal with the amount of guilt he feels now.  
Nick nods and scuttles away though, nodding like he is trying to apologize because he clearly misread the intensity of the relationship he just tried to fuck up.

Louis finally snaps out of it and rips himself out of Zayn’s grip, turning around and grabbing him by the shirt. 

“Was that you taking care of things?! Making me lose him, taking him away?!”, he screams and Zayn doesn’t allow himself to flinch away, because yes.

Louis has his drama-queen moments, but this is, again, purely Zayn’s fault.

“Louis, I swear…”, he starts, but Louis shakes his head and starts screaming directly in his face, fire blazing out of his eyes.

“He was beyond himself with worry that I put myself in danger for him and now you made him think that I am whoring myself out to a criminal! Paying for stopping him getting beaten! What the fuck do you swear by Zayn?! What?!”

The truth is, Zayn never saw Louis truly disappointed, not even when he showed up beaten and admitted that he is a thief. He knows he has to fix this and he will, there is no doubt about it.

“I swear I will get this sorted and Harry will be back in a few hours, ok?”, his voice is slightly trembling, but Louis isn’t even listening to him, opting for letting him go and pacing across the room in search for his phone. He finds it and tries calling but Harry is not picking up, of course he isn’t. Furious, Louis flings the phone across the room and it shatters against a book shelf.

“Can you just wait for a little bit?”, Zayn asks because he needs Louis to breathe through this.

“If you’ve done this because you have some sick idea that this relationship isn’t healthy for me, I swear Zayn…”, Louis croaks out, voice cracking and hands shaking.

“No! I wasn’t trying to ruin it for you, I didn’t even know that Nick would try something like this after doing what I asked, if I did I wouldn’t, but I tried protecting both of you and…”, he makes excuses and the look Louis gives him has a mixture of sadness and despair so intense that it makes Zayn shiver.

He shakes his head and looks up at the celling, huffing out a frustrated breath.

“I trusted you not to get him hurt and now he is. You didn’t mean for it to happen, but it did. And now what?”

“Now you sit and wait for Niall to bring him back. Because he will, you know it. Harry is crazy about you. He’ll listen to an explanation because he wants it. More than anything, and on this you can trust me, I ‘ve been fucking up a relationship for a lot longer than you have.”, Zayn pats him on the back.

“I’m not fucking up my relationship Zayn. Nicholas Grimshaw is.”, Louis deadpans and the tone in which he says it would be almost comical if it weren’t for tear-soaked cheeks.

Zayn is going to have nightmares of fucking it up himself like this again for years to come. Louis gives up and slumps to the armchair, lifting a hand up to start biting his nails. Guiltily, Zayn remembers that he stopped doing that while they were teenagers, afraid that it will show his anxiety and make him look not cool. It’s an innocent memory that gets painted bittersweet in this moment.

Afraid to speak another word, he slumps beside Louis, on the couch and not the armchair, because that’s been Harry’s spot and Louis huffs when someone else sits there. Neither of them speak and it’s silent even after a while, when Zayn’s phone beeps with a message.

From Niall: “I’ve got him.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is Niall’s POV. And an appropriate amount of Ziall. Sorry for the wait with it, hopefully I can post faster soon :-) I hope you like and feel free to comment and let me know whatever you think :-)

Niall is not that out of shape but Harry’s pace still makes him lose his breath. Catching up is a feat in itself, but he runs until there are actual black spots in front of his eyes. He’s lucky that Louis is dating a proper angel when the boy stops at a red light and turns around to spot him leaning against a wall down the street, clutching at his chest to make the air come in properly. He must’ve left quite the impression, because Harry lingers on with a watchful eye on him even when the light turns green. He is pacing on the sidewalk and keeps his arms around himself, folded in like he’s trying to prevent something from leaking out. Niall would rather forget that there is anything that needs fixing here, but there is. And Niall Horan never backed away from the challenge of fixing it after Zayn fucks it up. Epically, might he add.

He waves his arms about towards Harry, signaling that he wants him to wait and then pushes off the wall. While walking, he has a brief moment to consider the trembling boy and he is proud. He is proud of Louis for finding him and loving him and he is proud of himself for helping as much as he could. Yes, he is also proud of Zayn for doing what he did, because Zayn always tries to help and trying has always been good enough for Niall. The basis of their relationship, really. But mostly, he is proud of Harry for keeping his life going and running and breathing day by day, for allowing himself to fall in love and accepting to live through the pain of it. Useless pain, for now, but what will come after none of them know.

The thing is, Niall sees things that he bothers to pay attention to. Sees them bright clear and simple, void of all the crap that subjectivity brings into the picture. That’s how he knows that Zayn is the one for him, that Louis is the type that messes things up for himself because he’s scared of feeling. That’s also how he knew, the moment he saw Harry and Louis together, that it’s going to take a crowbar and heavy dosage of sleeping pills to even try prying those two apart. Zayn laughs at the notion of love at first sight, but Niall knows that it’s there simply because he’s seen it happening.

“You almost made me lose it against that wall mate. Easy on those legs stretching out, yeah?” he says lightly, throwing Harry a smile. Met with a grumpy, hands-in-pockets gesture, Niall braces himself for some diplomatic relationship first aid. He’s got it handled really.

“Can you hear me out?” he looks at him with his best convincing look but it’s more from Harry’s still present state of shock than actual conviction that he shrugs.

“Right. Look, there is an explanation for this. A good one. If you could let me talk and explain, you’ll know that Louis would never…”

Harry’s flinching away at the mention of Louis name, a visible trembling throughout his entire body, fists clenching and unclenching more rapidly and really? This kid breaks fast. Too fast for his own good.

“Harry.” he says in his best collected tone. There is a frown that Harry keeps on his face to stop the tears pouring out. It’s working exceptionally faulty.  
“There is a bench in that park right across the street. Maybe you could come with me and sit. 5 minutes, I promise.” Harry is going to cave in with this, he knows he will. No matter how hurt he is, he’ll want to know why and how and when and all the’ because’s, so Niall tempts him with that one.

Slowly, he crosses the street and hums a silent prayer that Harry follows him. He does.

“Louis’ not fucking any other guy.” he’s blunt about it and of if Harry’s eyes widen like he can’t quite believe it, well… Niall Horan does not beat around any bushes.

“Not now, but that guy…” Harry starts and his voice is even worse than his posture, drowned and bloodied with liquid misery. There is an underlying force of angrylividabouttokill, but it’s actually well controlled.

“That gut is a douche. Textbook example. Now, I’m telling you, I haven’t seen Louis mope for 5 bloody years and then find you to have him jump on any other wagon than yours.”

Harry waves his head and exasperatedly huffs, not sitting down on the bench. Niall wasn’t hoping he would.

“What are you telling me then?” he asks and it’s desperate and dripping with hope. He wants this to disappear, to cuddle with Louis again and have it not matter at all, be so sickeningly cute as to give Niall a headache.

“Don’t mind if I use that to my advantage to reason with you lad.” he thinks and stands in front of him, grabbing him by the shoulders lightly and takes a deep breath.

“Louis asked Zayn to help with that Jackson lad you told him about. Zayn told me and we decided to make someone else chase him away, be anonymous and untraceable in case of a fuck up or whatever. So we… Or actually Zayn decided on Nick.”his tone is steady and if Harry keeps frowning while listening to him, at least it’s now because he’s trying to connect the dots.

“That creature?” Harry asks and stresses the ‘creature’ in a posh, indignant huff that almost makes Niall laugh. This guy is Prince Charming even while insulting people.

“Yes, that’s the cunt from the shop. Now, the important thing is that Louis didn’t know we hired him. We thought it better if the two of you didn’t know. But Nick decided that he wants a payment for the job, to have Louis hook up with him.”

Harry rips away from him and shakes his head in disbelief.

“Excuse me, are you telling me that Louis didn’t know that he will be asked to sleep with someone for this?!”

Niall is going to lose him if he doesn’t calm down, he knows this, so me speeds it up.

“No, he didn’t know. Zayn and I didn’t know until the other day and we tried warning him, but he was so into everything with you that we just didn’t manage. And what happened in the shop is Louis finding about it.”

Harry is staring at him, mouth agape.

“I’m sorry man, really I am. And Zayn too. But we were just trying to help and Jackson is off your back now and it’s all good.”

“Good?!” Harry screams at him suddenly and Niall is scared out of his mind. People rarely scream at him, mostly because Zayn has always been there to throw a punch, easy as second nature. The type of relationship you’re in gives you a certain reputation. Niall and Zayn would be the don’t-fuck-with-him-or-you’ll-have-double-the-trouble one, apparently. Which is good, because evidently the Harry-Louis union is responsible for introducing all the drama-queen moments.

“How can it be good if he’s asking my boyfriend to sleep with him? What am I supposed to do?! Send Louis to do it and pretend that I don’t want to kill him?” he shouts and it’s vaguely out of character that Niall got familiar with, sitting in that damn armchair and giggling with Louis. Harry’s isn’t violent or angry often, or so it seemed.

“Louis’ not sleeping with anyone mate. If I may guess at exact wording, Nick has probably been sent off to go fuck himself and hopefully die in the process. Meanwhile, Louis is pulling his hair out, thinking you’re about to end it with him over this.”

Harry frowns again and cocks his head to the side, like he can’t quite decide whether to trust him of or not.

“Look, I’m telling the truth. What use would I have of lying to you? Zayn and I fucked up, royally, but Nick isn’t getting his way and Louis is clean in this one, so if you could consider going back and stopping him from freaking himself out into a frenzy?” he tries.

The decision is made, Niall knows it by the erased lines of hurthelpithurts that framed the boy’s face. One session of lovey-dovey eyes at each other with Louis and he’ll be as good as new.

Harry walks back with him, all languid, questioning steps, like he’s threading a mine field. It’s funny to compare this with the usual type Louis picks out, confident, cocky bastards that walk and talk like they own it all, including Louis. No, this one’s a keeper and Niall wants badly to get to trust him and love him and make him feel accepted. Zayn would say that is doesn’t matter what the two of them think, but they all know how much I does. When Zayn first kissed him and later proclaimed Niall as his, there were no horrific scenes of admitting it to the family, mostly because both of them were cursed with families that would never give a fuck about anything, but they were scared as hell of admitting it to Louis. It’s kind of important to bond with Harry.

“So, Jackson’s not giving you any problems?” he attempts at small talk and ignores the fact that he’s asking about a life of a bullied kid. There were unclear traces of Louis’ hesitation when he explained it to Zayn, but even through the third person channel through which it arrived to Niall, he suspected Harry’s father of doing much worse than neglect to Harry. It scared him, terrified even, because Harry was maybe damaged beyond repair.

“No. And thank you for that.”

Niall looks at him and sees nothing but polite, guarded thoughtfulness. Kind of endearing.

“We didn’t help you with it just because Louis asked, you know? It’s because we both wanted to.” he says and Harry whips his head around to stare at him, shock written over his features.

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that, besides having a boyfriend that’s crazy about you, you have us too? I know, you can’t consider me or Zayn to be friends yet, but… We’re here? If you need someone to talk to or help you kick ass or…” he stretches it out and Harry’s surprise melts into confusion.

“Or what?”

“Or escape, if you want it.” Niall finishes and he can almost see the way Harry’s face falls.

“I… That’s not what I can do. This is all for now. Random visits and sneaking around. I know you both think Louis deserves better, but I can’t…”

“It’s not about what I think Louis deserves. He wants you. And I think he’s right and spot on, because the two of you have it. Like, the IT. But maybe you should start thinking ‘bout what you deserve?”

It’s Harry’s expression of disbelief that someone is even presenting him with the possibility of thinking of himself that scares Niall even more.

Louis is standing in front of Zayn and lecturing him about something when they arrive in front of the bookshop. Zayn looks vaguely close to tears himself, but when Louis turns around to the sound of the bell above the door, it’s much worse than Niall expected. Bloodshot, water eyes are staring at Harry, lips already forming words that grasp at frayed straws off affection among them. It’s difficult to watch as Louis starts stammering over himself and rushes forward, all:

“I’m not doing it, I swear I’m not, I didn’t know, I love you, Please, Don’t go, Please, I love you…”and the constant chant of tones and stammers. Harry looks at him and untangles his long hands from his own torso, squeezing them one more time before approaching Louis and pulling him in. The waves of relief pour of both of them and Niall averts his eyes, approaches the couch on which Zayn is sitting and extends a hand of comfort. Zayn jumps up and folds himself close, guilty and scared eyes tracking answers over Niall’s face.

He hears a faint “I’m sorry.” from Harry and Louis’ frantic chant of “It’s you, only you, I swear, please don’t go, please…” before he pulls his own boyfriend away from the scene and upstairs.

It’s only when they’re safe and away, hidden by the dark in Louis’ kitchen that Zayn breaks down. Always a difficult thing to watch, but forever obliged to be there, for every sob that escapes out, Niall hugs him tight and cradles him like a baby. The process is the same as always, Zayn cries and clings and doesn’t say anything as Niall engulfs him with as much love and warmth as is physically possible and lets his breathing steady. They don’t talk or clarify as they can hear Louis and Harry doing downstairs, quiet but constant thrumming, because he knows all of Zayn’s thoughts by heart, and it’s the same vice versa. Zayn thinks it’s his duty to keep all of them happy and protected and when he fails, it’s always Niall that he turns to for patching him up for the next battle.

When he’s breathing normally, Zayn mutters something and Niall pulls away a bit, cradling his face closer and kissing his forehead in comfort and question.

“Didn’t hear babe.” he mutters against Zayn’s jawline.

“I’m sorry too. And thank you for fixing my mess up. Again.”

Zayn repents a thousand sins that he didn’t even commit along with this one, it’s just how he is, but Niall is having none of that.

“Not all your fault love, ok? And it’s fixed now, all ok, you can let it go.” he says is while looking Zayn in the eyes.

“Niall, he nearly had a break down, went absolutely livid at me and I couldn’t even…”

“Louis will let it go faster than anyone now that Harry’s back. And it’s not like you and I did this on purpose, so they’ll understand.”

He’s convincing enough for Zayn, he knows he is. Always.

“What do we do with them then?” Zayn asks, staring down like he can visualize Louis cuddled on Harry’s lap on that armchair, clinging like a thirsty man to water.

“We let it be for now. Harry isn’t ready to leave and it’s his call. Louis, me, you, we can watch and help, but that’s it.” he feels lost saying it, but is very aware that’s it’s the truth.

“For now.” Zayn repeats, a determined look on him as he hugs Niall again. He’s already planning a way out, a route to happiness for all of them sometime along the road, firm and steady front against despair and anguish of all of their burdens and it very much reminds Niall of why he loves him.

In the morning, Niall goes to Louis bedroom just before he wakes up and sits around to wait for him. Harry feel asleep with him, then snuck out in the early morning, trying for quiet but Niall, awake as he was while Zayn slept it away, heard him. He’s not pretending that he doesn’t know why is Harry leaving like it’s a crime to spend the night over after what happened, but it still bothers him. It’s not only about Louis not deserving this, but also about harry not deserving to have to make himself leave. Niall watched him from the upstairs window as he left the book shop, dragging his feet like a stray dog and looking over his shoulder like he would want more than anything to come back. There is something wrong about people who get to carry the world on their shoulders and then forget how to shake it off. Zayn fidgeted in bed a moment later, tearing Niall’s attention from Harry’s diminishing frame and inviting him back to bed, warm and inviting, but only accentuating the fact that a boy just escaped that same warmth to go sleep with his demons and that Louis is going to wake up to an empty bed.

So Niall sits and watches him sleep, deep frowns and tear tracks erased from his face. He didn’t lie when he said that he thinks Harry is good for Louis. Niall has been there, through doubt and pain and Louis’ need to run away because he was never really at peace with himself. Now he’s here to see the nervous terror that Louis sustains because of what Niall and Zayn do for a living and even though he would stop, there isn’t an easy way out now. Nor is there a way to move and abandon Louis. And also, now he’s here to see Louis falling in love like in a fucked-up fairytale, blind and deaf to reason and rationality. He’s glad that he gets to see this really, this time.

The first guy Louis dated back home was a burly, giant jock that never came out, choosing to sneak around and drag Louis through the mud the next day. Louis looked smitten and happy for entire two days before the weight of what he’s doing started getting the better of him and it would have ended up in disaster if Niall and Zayn weren’t there to chase the dick away.

The second one was just around the time when Niall and Zayn started dating, a flamboyant, loud prick that paraded Louis like a piece of meat all over the town. Niall likes to think that he would stop it, but he didn’t, because he had a fresh, feels-like-forever relationship himself starting so neither him or Zayn paid a lot of attention. The drunken spiral into which Louis succumbed after walking into an orgy orchestral by the prick himself was a wake up signal that something was terribly, utterly wrong.

Louis started avoiding them after that, always uncomfortable to intrude and bother and just be, despite both Niall and Zayn insisting on him being family. There was a problem, a giant one. Louis, the best boy that anyone could ever want, forgot to learn how to love himself somehow. It was painful to understand and wrap their heads around it, after Louis left, but they did. And then followed him to London.

There’ve been three idiots since they came to live with Louis. The first one was the owner of the pub across the street, been practically drooling all over Louis from day one. He seemed nice enough, almost a chance for a normal relationship and both Niall and Zayn agreed that it was worth to give it a shot and convinced Louis to go for it, only to walk in on an argument three months later. It wouldn’t be bad in itself, but Tom had his arm raised to strike and Louis was gaping at him like a fish, unable to comprehend that someone could just try to smack him for the hell of it, someone he dated and slept with and almost started falling for. Niall also couldn’t understand, but was a bit more vocal about expressing it, punching his way through to the point. Tom still worked at the pub, politely dragging his eyes and body away as soon as Zayn or Niall walked in.

Then there was the brief fling with Andy. Liam, the nurse who patched Zayn and Niall up on numerous occasions was the most polite, sweet, reasonable adult either of them ever met, so it was kind of a shock to discover that his best friend Andy was a bit of unstable and wild. He’s the only one of all of the exes that Louis still talks to though, having separated on agreement that they are simply not good for each other.

And, of course, there was James, the manager of the pub where they used to perform with the band every other Saturday. He used to buy Louis gifts, expensive, useless things and ask for only obedience in return. Which, well, Niall is proud to say that Louis, of all the people he has ever met, is the least likely to be obedient about anything. Josh, who just joined them in the band at the time, got James’ attention for one night of useless flirting attempts and Louis ended it immediately.

When Louis wakes up, it’s with a new frown and hand stretching out towards the cold side of bed in search for Harry. He snaps out of the sleepiness as soon as he realizes Harry isn’t there, sitting up and looking at Niall in panic that he has been abandoned once more, completely forgetting to ask Niall what was he doing there just sitting. He points to a note on the table beside the bed and Louis gets a calmer but sadder look on his face as he reads it.

“He has to be home, of course.” Louis says, voice scratchy like he was screaming the entire night.

“Are you two fine?” Niall questions and Louis looks at him nodding, rubbing the sleep (worry) out of his eyes.

“How fine?” Niall asks again.

“Very fine. Together fine.” Louis answers and there is a smile on his lips. Faint, but there.

“You didn’t say happy fine though.” Niall says back and Louis is looking away. Guilt, or some variation of it is edible in the air.

“He’s not ready to leave and I have to wait Niall. But I will.”

And there is it. The commitment. One thing Louis Tomlinson has never done.

“Are you scared?” Niall knows Zayn asked Louis whether he loved Harry, but that one was obvious. Even this what he asks now is obvious, but it needs to be said. Even if Harry is the one who might be getting beat up at this very moment, it’s Louis who gets to spend days in fear of not knowing and never being sure in which state will the lad walk through the door, if he even does. When he does though, if he’s fine, Louis will be so happy that he will forget about everything. Not now though.

“Yes.” Louis admits and Niall nods.

“So what can I do?”

Louis doesn’t know, it’s evident in the lost look he throws Niall’s way.

“You can stick around to help when he does lose it?” he whispers at the end and it’s almost funny how Niall knew what has to be done.

“Yes. Me and Zayn both. You need to count on that, even if Harry doesn’t, clear?”

It is, in the way Louis’ frown broadens into a bit of a smile. He nods and extends his hand for Niall to help him get up.

“You’re not naked underneath, are you? I prefer that level of intimacy to be unveiled mate.” Niall jokes and Louis rolls his eyes.

“Help me get up you useless twat! Of course I am dressed, Harry slept over!” his shout is indignant, but Niall frowns, confused.

“Are you two having problems in bed too?” he is nonchalant while he asks and it’s a bit strange because Louis isn’t offended that he asks, already used to having Niall stick his nose wherever he pleases and evolved to know how to benefit from it.

“No. We are not ready for… you know.” he is dead serious while he says it, so Niall’s jaw hits the floor at ‘we’ already. Louis Tomlinson is not only willing to wait for someone to be ready. He himself isn’t ready for that someone and if that doesn’t speak volumes about what a fucking movie drama love story this is, Niall doesn’t know what does.

“You are bloody gone for him mate.” he says and if Louis just smiles at that, then it’s no wonder really.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Mixed POV. And sorry for the wait, life got in the way.

Happiness is a relative concept, depending on a current state of mind, or so Gemma used to say when Harry was sad back home. Now, with Louis here and with Louis willing to be Harry’s, he was tempted to redefine the word to mean “dating Louis Tomlinson”. Gemma didn’t know, his mother didn’t know, the world couldn’t know or all would go to hell, but Harry was the happiest he ever was.

There were those tiny glimpses of life down the road, with a house that belongs to him and a bed he can sleep the whole night away in, holding Louis as close as possible without crawling into him. Happiness was to imagine a world in which he didn’t have to sneak out time after time, as spring came and father replaced poker nights with whatever it was rich bastards preferred to do this season. They would fall asleep together often, warm and safe and smiling and then Harry would feel the silent alarm vibrate against his leg and that was it. To extract himself away was getting harder each time but he did it, braving the warmer weather now, but feeling the same cold as he walked away. Louis would wake up to a cute little message on the pillow beside him and he would be well and safe. Or so Harry told himself, ignoring the pang of something that gripped his chest every time Louis clung to him before falling asleep, like he knows Harry will slip away and he has to get to touch as much as possible before he does.

Then there were the looks Niall and Zayn and even Josh kept throwing their way, scrunched up, disbelieving smiles on their faces whenever they caught the two of them being too cute for words. Like when Louis would enter the kitchen after their afternoon snuggle in Harry’s jumper and Harry forgot to breathe so he ended up coughing his tea up, Louis by his side in a heartbeat.

There was the way how Louis behaved in public. Even though Jackson was taken care of, Harry wasn’t a very public person either way, so reaching for Louis when they were eating or drinking with the others rarely happened. Louis was affectionate over all expectations though, constantly seeking out light touches and glancing Harry’s way, smiling like a kitten whenever he realized that he was the focus of Harry’s attention anyway. The band had a gig and even though everyone was cheering Louis on after he finished each song, it was Harry that he snuggled up to during breaks, all sweaty and starry-eyed, drunk on the sweet feeling of performing and being damn good at it. People were staring at them, Louis’ slight frame wrapped in Harry’s lanky arms, Harry wearing attempted rock outfits completed with bandanas and skinny jeans as their dates got more frequent. Louis’ eyes light up with each new thing Harry wore like it was the favorite thing he ever saw on someone. School was still off limits, clean-cut outfits and glasses, hair slicked back and no Louis in sight, for precautionary purposes, but away from it, in what Harry liked to consider his real life, he finally got to act, dress and hang out with whoever he wanted. And judging by how people reacted, what he wanted was exactly what fit alongside Louis, the two of them a sight to be admired: a boy waiting beside the stage, wide smile and tall frame always in the shadows, waiting for the a gleaming, sweaty body to press itself tight against his chest and steal kisses from the moment Louis stepped off the stage.

Louis wrote him lyrics, tiny snippets of his thoughts that he said echoed through his head on some nights. Harry knew that he meant “nights I spend wondering if you’re getting beaten up”, but kept quiet about it.

Louis called and texted and communicated only when Harry said that it’s safe to do so and even though it was probably inhumanly difficult for him, he never complained about it, too happy to have Harry return time after time.

Louis made him promise that he would never run off and hurt away in silence, whatever happened. It scared both of them, the way they felt like being torn limb by limb when that Nick-creature made them distrust each other. Harry carried many doubts within himself, but Louis forced him to swear to try letting them go. What happened then was painful and scary for Harry himself, but Louis was in a much worse state, shaking and sobbing throughout the night after Harry came back. The strength of this thing that tied them together was somehow underestimated until then, but after, they were both very much aware that there was no walking away.

Louis waited for him to approve every touch and never grabbed and just took, even if Harry would possibly even be ready to give it all if prompted. The wait was what convinced him that he should give it his all, because to who else? It was on their four-month anniversary, in the middle of April, when Harry said that he was ready and Louis doubted and questioned until the end of May. Exams of the school year were over, so Harry had more time to try sneaking out to the book shop and he had Lou drive him to get there in time before midnight on the anniversary and celebrate. Voice steady but with trembling hands, he tried explaining to Louis that he will never be as ready to lose his virginity as he was then. Hesitation was short-lived and he would have made love with Louis that night, if the fresh bruises from a day ago didn’t stand out across this chest and Louis recoiled like he had been stabbed. He didn’t want to continue after that, even after Harry lied that is wasn’t painful. It was one of the hardest things Harry had to endure since starting this with Louis, chocking back sobs while gripping his stomach, locked away in the bathroom. He was about to be sick to the mere thought of Louis being disgusted with him, choosing never to touch the freak who got bruised in places most other people his age were happy to display and taunt with. Bile rose and scorched his throat and fat, hot tears were rolling down his cheeks and it was hunched over the toilet bowl that a distraught Louis found him, shaking and gripping and saying over and over again that he loves him, adores him, would kill for him if he had to, just he couldn’t think about him sexually while he was visibly hurt and he was sorry, so sorry. Harry managed to drag himself out of the bathroom and pry Louis hands off of his shoulders in an attempt to leave and think, save his dignity and wallow in pity that he wanted to offer himself like this to only one and that one couldn’t stand looking at him. But Louis wouldn’t let him, kept clawing and screaming for him to stop and maybe it was the desperation that he heard that made him turn around and scream back that he was sorry that he wasn’t good enough but that he didn’t see a way how anything would change soon, so maybe it was better if Louis accepted to just let it go. This set him off even worse, he started trembling and apologizing over and over again and swore that he would never refuse Harry ever again, just to stay. He did. Feeling miserable and horrible, but he did and Louis was awake with him until dawn, when Harry had to sneak out again to get home in time. They were badly bruised after that, tentative and unsure around each other, but Harry learned to relax again. He never asked for sex again though. Louis would snuggle close to him and whisper a thousand compliments into his ears, sometimes he could even feel him getting hard, but Harry never acted on anything, too scared to be refused again. And somehow, he knew Louis was too scared of hurting him more with changing anything, so he didn’t act on it either. It was a sore topic that they both decided to ignore.

So Harry was entitled to think that they weren’t as normal as could be, but nothing was usual about them, so he learned to just lean on Louis and support back when Louis needed reassurance. Life changing decisions would have to be made before they went anywhere from that point and that is where the true problems started. He wanted to leave the hell he called a house every day. But there was a life of people dear to him that he would shake to the core if he did. And even if he realized that being free and being with Louis was worth it, he could never be sure that his father wouldn’t come after Louis next. So he did nothing and gave his everything to keep enduring.

It was a beat of silence in his father’s tirade about being a failure of a son that made him look up and into his eyes.

“You listening to me boy?”

The voice was dripping with pure malice and Harry knew that a smack was due as soon as they got home from the party he was forced to attend tonight. His Headmaster threw it this every year and all the rich parents and their spoiled brats attended, so of course, Harry was obliged to come, be extra-careful to not mess any part of the etiquette up and then fail at it. A beating after this event was a yearly occurrence.

He nodded and lowered his eyes when father squinted at him, adjusting in his seat and turning his head away from Harry.

“Try not to destroy my reputation tonight, will you?”

Harry nodded again and tried looking smaller in his seat, turning to stare through the window and allowing himself a moment to think about the way Louis smiled at him that morning, all giggly and sleepy, adorable and how he fussed over Harry’s taste in tea again. It would be a few days before he saw him again, father had to leave on a trip again and Jackson and his mother were staying in the house for a while too, so Harry knew he couldn’t risk that much, no matter how hard he wished it.

When they arrived there was a fussing team of people escorting the richest man inside and even though they were all hell-bent on making it look like they respected Harry as well, he simply didn’t have the air of a stuck-up bastard around him enough to make them bow properly. Which, judging by the look he threw Harry’s way, disappointed father very much. Breathing in and trying to imagine the next four or so hours nodding to people and tripping over his own feet in a place where he was, judging by the amount of money the family name carried, supposed to be the alpha male, he walked in. He wasn’t ready to face this without at least hearing Louis’ voice, he realized and slipped off to the bathroom as soon as he entered.

The number wasn’t saved so he had to type it in each time, too scared of nosy inquiries that would end up exposing a vital part of his life to his own personal monsters. Louis picked up on the first ring, a nervous question about Harry’s wellbeing hanging from his lips and that made Harry smile.

“I just called to say I love you.”, he said and Louis laughed in his ear, warm and safe and tender.

“You romantic dolt. Will this get you into trouble?”, Louis asked and Harry could see him leaning against the counter, twirling his fingers over the wood patterns and smiling.  
“Everything might tonight, but you’re worth it.”, he said and if Louis sucked a breath in a bit too audible, Harry chose to ignore it and grin away in silence.

“ So that party you’re going to, sounds boring? Are you sure there won’t be hot classmates on your tail?”, Louis asked and Harry stared at his own reflection in the mirror, mirth in his eyes.  
“Well, they might be but I will probably shake them off said tail if they appear.”

“Probably?”, Louis huffed and Harry laughed, a sound so foreign in the cold, pristine white of the bathroom walls.

“Well, I make no promises, this is the Welton Academy Spring Ball after all, the place to be apparently.”, he added.

Louis grew quiet though, not even a breath down the line. Harry cringed.

“Baby? I’m joking.”, he says, but Louis stayed silent, uncommon and a bit alarming and Harry nearly started fidgeting before:

“I know you are dolt. I have a customer though, an old lady is creeping over my shelves, I have to go. I’ll see you, yeah?”, he said and dropped the conversation. Harry frowned a bit more before shrugging and hurrying outside, braving a look of interest that father expected of him when he greeted the Headmaster. Father wanted to start a business with him and Harry was pretty much the main reference he would like to use, so it was crucial that he does everything properly. Or something.

***

Somewhere across London, Louis was swearing like a madman as he ran towards the bus stop down the street.

“Welton fucking Academy!”

Two things of vital importance happened today.  
Niall and Zayn had a robbery planned, posing as waiters at some posh party some rich idiot was throwing for one purpose or another.

And Harry was going to a party himself, in company of his father.

Only about two minutes ago did Louis Tomlinson find out that both of these events occurred at the same place though.

***

Zayn is getting nervous waiting for Niall in the lobby. This isn’t how the plan was supposed to go. Zayn is the one who commits the actual crime each time and it’s Niall waiting and fearing for both of them. But this time, Niall claimed that Zayn was distracted and that he’s going to fuck it up, so he demanded that he be the one to go in the room itself, open the safe, steal the money and, if possible grab the painting. He was supposed to hide it in the kitchen and then escape the party early with it, leaving Zayn to cover up their tracks. The mid-evening meeting went by 5 minutes ago and Niall didn’t show up.

Fidgety and all too aware that he is probably getting people to notice his strange behavior, Zayn huffs and tries running up the stairs invisible. Maybe, if Niall was the one waiting, like he usually is, he would be able to really wait it out, but it was so unlike Niall to be late.

Smelling trouble, Zayn sneaks past people trying to look like he is in a hurry on a task, managing to almost slip past everyone. But what escapes Zayn’s attention, what probably wouldn’t have escaped Niall’s, is that a young man notices and stares at Zayn like he is seeing someone from another life. Which he is, honestly.

Confused, Harry hurries after him, but Zayn doesn’t notice, focused only on finding Niall. It’s a movie-like chase over the wide dining area on the first floor and up, up, up, across hallways and beside rooms.

Neither boy turns around to notice two people spotting them from the first floor.

Harry’s father stares for a second at the retreating back of his son, agitated at his incompetence to do anything right and already determined to give him the smacking of his life as soon as they get home. He doesn’t care where he is sneaking off to, too used to Harry disappearing and not being interested and generally creating only problems where he should know better until now.

***

There is a lorry at the back door when he arrives at the address he read from Zayn’s notes in the back of the bookshop when Harry said where he was. They are moving boxes from it and inside and Louis considers it a stroke of good luck that he manages to climb over the wall securing the mansion and convince one of the guards that he has to help with the lorry urgently, grab one of the boxes and enter in the big kitchen where about a thousand people are fussing about. Not many throw a significant look his way, so he manages to squeeze through nearly unnoticed.

He doesn’t know where he is heading though. To come here and stop something, anything from happening was his first instinct, but to actually do it? He has no idea where Niall and Zayn are, whether they stole what they came for or are currently stealing and where is Harry? How is he supposed to warn Harry about all of this if he also has to protect him from knowing anything at all?

When he finally manages to enter the main reception area on the ground floor, the lights and the glamour distract him only for a second before there is an angry shout behind him and a black shirt a few sizes too big thrown at him. A woman pulls him back into the shadows and starts a lecture about her staff not being late, ever, and always being properly dressed and what does he think he is doing, getting an opportunity to earn this much in one night in the last moment and toying with it. Louis nods, but doesn’t really listen, feeding into her illusions that he is simply one of about a hundred people working here. It must have been easy, getting in like this, which is why Niall and Zayn chose this route, he thinks while buttoning up the shirt and nodding along. He taps the woman on the shoulder, smiles politely and walks away like has a job to do.

He notices them immediately, Zayn’s trained but agitated strut up the stairs and Harry noticing and tailing him. It’s what he came here to stop and now it’s happening and he has to somehow rewind time, he thinks, setting after the two boys.

While he runs, there is a miniscule thought about how Niall should be the one patrolling while Zayn is out of sight, that’s how they always said this operated and this… There is something very, very wrong.

***

Zayn reaches the room he memorized from the map and opens the door quietly, but Niall is nowhere to be found. There is a metal bar crashed in front of the painting though, something that usually shouldn’t be there and Zayn realizes that they are minutes away from an alarm going off. Cursing, he turns around and smacks right into someone. Flustered, he goes to apologize to the perfectly tailored suit in front of him, when a familiar voice says his name.

Harry is staring at him very confused, glancing back to the room for a moment and all Zayn can think about is:

“Shit!”

Then there is a distinct moan from the bathroom down the hall and Zayn trembles.

“Niall!”, he says and runs past Harry, knowing that he will follow him.

When he opens the door, the sight is chilling, Niall is hunched over the sink, gripping it with one hand while the other is… disfigured to put it mildly. The angle at which is arm dangles is unnatural, there is something that Zayn supposes is bone nearly breaking the skin and his whole body is trembling harshly, lips bitten so he could keep the screams in and Zayn is dysfunctional just staring at him. 

Niall’s head snaps up and there are tears down his cheeks. Zayn is about to lose it when Harry pushes past him to support Niall and voices a question after a question, frantic and naïve and so, so new to this shit Zayn keeps getting all of them into.

“The painting. There was some bar that came crashing down as soon as I approached on the floor and it… It hit only sideways but still, my arm, God, Zayn, my arm!”, he cries out and Zayn curses and approaches, taking him away from Harry. He doesn’t know how to deal with this. He’s panicking too much and Niall is in too much pain and…

Louis barges in at that moment and even though it’s getting crowded in the bathroom, Zayn has never been never more terrified and or more relieved to see anyone in his life.

He scans the situation like a math problem and almost shows no emotion, if it weren’t for the trembling hands with which he closes the door and the way he avoids Harry’s eyes.

“We need to get him out of here. Both of you. Go.”, his tone is almost collected again and it’s only a slight tremble there.

“He’s right Zayn, I….”, Niall tries and then his eyes bulge out in pain as some sort of muscle spasm goes through his arm. He pushes his face in Zayn’s chest and screams. Zayn is aware of his wet cheeks but there is a wind in his head, picking up speed and making him want to curl up against Niall and just wait it out, whatever will happen.

“I… I put thick wire beneath the bar and the floor, but it won’t last for long. As soon as it snaps, the alarm…”, Niall croaks out and Zayn cradles him in panic. Louis surges forward past a numb Harry and smacks him right across the face.

“Take whatever you have and go. Make him look presentable, get out and don’t turn back. Now.” he orders and if Zayn listens, it’s only because he’s working on autopilot now. He tries to guide Niall out the door, but Louis stops him.

“The money.”, he says and Zayn realizes he nearly forgot the designed garbage bag of the restaurant doing the catering, with the contents of the safe emptied into it. He looks at Niall for a moment to confirm that there is nothing else and he knows there isn’t, they’ve been too trained in this to forget a glove or a piece of equipment.

“Zayn.”, Louis calls after him while he’s at the door and Zayn looks back, catching the sight of Harry’s comprehending face, all drained of color and speechless.

“Wipe your face.”, Louis says and turns from the door.

Rushing down the hallway, Zayn has a few seconds to comb through Niall’s hair and tidy both of them up. In the shadows right before the stairs leading to the dining area, he pushes the bag in Niall’s healthy hand to hide the broken arm, steadies him on his feet and gets them downstairs.

People are generally unaware, choosing to ignore the serving boys as Zayn picks up a few dishes lying around the room and tries to look occupied. Right before the second flight of stairs, a woman stops them, waving her hand at them and ordering something, but not really looking at them properly. Zayn is about to smack her in anger, but Niall smiles politely, beads of sweat on his forehead and his teeth chattering, but he pushes past and off they go.

Outside, he pushes Niall in the back of some lorry parked in the front and climbs in after him. It’s a few minutes before it drives off and Niall is slipping into something in his arms, incoherent and chewing away at Zayn’s shirt to smoother the whimpers.

***

In the bathroom, Louis stares at Harry and Harry stares back but neither say anything for a minute or two.

“Louis…”, Harry croaks out in the end, waving his head and looking away.

Louis isn’t stupid, he knows that that look and that expression means that Harry connected all the dots. He knows. And he can destroy them all with what he knows.

“I didn’t. I couldn’t tell you. I came here to stop this but I figured it out too late, today when you called and…”

And nothing. He is vulnerable now. His life, his friends, his weaknesses. And it’s up to Harry to crumble his life away. But at least he got Niall and Zayn an opportunity to run.

“You can turn me in, but only me, you get it? Don’t make them pay for this when it’s me who you were dating.”, he says and apparently a few things make Harry snap and look at him with disbelief over his features.

“Turn you in?! No Louis, I’m not turning you in. It’s not fair but I’m not.”, he says and approaches and Louis is probably beyond shocked when Harry kisses him. When the alarm goes off, Harry pushes him toward the door and turns him away.

“And Louis, we are dating.”, he says to the back of his head and pushes again. Louis fights it, wants to stay and see what will happen, but Harry insists to push him out and it’s a minute later that he finds himself in the shadows and at the end of the dining room on the first floor, mixed among a group of people and watching the guards coming back downstairs, oblivious that Louis climbed down while they were flooding up the stairs. They bring Harry back, who walks frowning and confused, stumbling a bit and looking very inadequate to say the least. He is waving his head no at something one of the guards is asking him and shrugging. The man is annoyed, the snobbish looking prick that approaches like the owns the place looks annoyed, but Harry doesn’t offer any help, just shrugging and explaining something while looking at the floor.

Then a tall man pushes through the mass of people, goes right past Louis and stops to put his hand on Harry’s shoulder. There is a tiny second to notice the stiffer back and hunched shoulders that Harry somehow immediately develops, while the man questions about what is going on. His voice is the only one that can be heard and Louis stares a little too harshly at the way his fingers grip at Harry’s flesh like they want to rip it off, finally realizing who this is. Harry is getting smaller by the second, but there is a defiance with which he keeps waving his head and shrugging, so the guards walk away to give him and his father privacy. The look which the bastards bestows upon Harry should be prohibited by law, Louis realizes and his blood is boiling to jump ahead and snatch Harry away from him. But Harry leans toward his father and nods to something, flinching a bit when the man lifts the other hand up and rests it on Harry’s other shoulder. Finally, he nods at something and turns toward the owner of the house, apologetic and smiling like a lion about to pounce.

A guard comes up to the crowd and starts screaming for them to go downstairs because the police is coming and that is it. Louis is pushed with them, managing a look or two at Harry, who stands with his head bowed besides his father and bites his lip like a man who just found out exactly how will he die.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be finishing this in 2 - 3 following chapters. It consumed a lot of my energy to get it done and even though I loved writing this, I want to go on with other projects… Anyway, around 3 chapters more and you don’t need to suffer through my writing anymore, yeah? :-)

Liam picks up on the first ring, too used to random phonecalls in the middle of the night to ask a lot of questions. Louis thanks him about a thousand times before he has to hang up and wait it out. Niall is huddled in Zayn’s arms upstairs, a whimpering, scared mess and the only reason Louis is downstairs is because it was hard to stand and watch Zayn try to keep it together and fail, sobbing and fidgety and attempting to calm down, but only getting angry in the process.

He sits in Harry’s armchair, feet huddled close to himself and thinks. Everything is at stake now and he can (and does) blame himself for all of it. Niall and Zayn are in danger and he has to figure out a way to get them out of this whole mess permanently. There are no safe places in London, so he figures that he can reason with Zayn later about leaving and never turning back.

He feels bad about putting Liam in this situation again and again and he fears for him sometimes, a kind and gentle soul too good to refuse helping people, even if it will probably cost him more than he is ready to pay. He respected Liam’s outlook on life a lot, but there were times where he just couldn’t grasp it.

And then there’s Harry. Louis can’t get it out his head, the look on his face before he pushed him out of that door. It was devotion and sacrifice and bravery, so much of it. And somehow, Louis knew there isn’t a way to pay this debt back. Even if he gets the chance to live his entire life beside Harry, loving him as much as he deserves, he can never repay that pure trust that Harry threw at him. It stings like a glowing, warm presence right across his heart, how he is such a fool for ever bringing such a boy into a situation like this. Harry didn’t deserve this mess, but he was somehow willing to fight to have it and that… It made Louis feel loved. He didn’t know how to cope with it, experienced in being let go with a force of thousand punches as he was. Harry loved him, Harry wanted him, Harry didn’t care that Louis was too little of what he could get from life. And call him selfish as much as you want, but Louis wasn’t about to let go. Whatever Harry wanted, Harry would get.

He tried calling, but Harry’s phone was switched off, probably to prevent his father from seeing anything, since Harry would know that Louis’ first instinct would be to call. In reality, Louis’ instincts told him to take Harry with him right from the house, away from his father and all the idiots that could hurt him. He was in for a long night, hoping beyond hope that Harry’s father won’t be mad enough to hit him for being in that bathroom and in the middle of the scene afterwards, for fumbling through answers and looking like he can’t help catch anyone. And there is the biggest guilty burden that Louis is shuddering under: if anyone even looks at Harry like he did something wrong, they deserve to be killed, but it will be Louis’ fault. There are huge, sacred obstacles that anyone should know better than to mess with and, in Louis’ head, letting Harry suffer was the biggest one. It made the ceiling spin above him, the knowledge that Harry will pay for helping him and he prays that Liam arrives soon to take his mind of the mental images of blood and bruises and scared green eyes. Harry will bend backwards to stop him from interfering, but if it comes down to it, Louis knows he will.

Liam is focused on helping and not asking questions, a scolding glance at Louis the only indication that he knows what happened and why, but Zayn is begging him to help, while still not letting go of Niall. It speaks volumes of how Louis is out of it that he notices only small details about everything. How Niall’s fingers squeeze at Zayn’s forearm to contain the trembling to his healthy arm only. Or how Zayn is watching what Liam is doing like a hawk, soothing words escaping his lips without putting any thought into them. It gets a bit too crowded emotion-wise in his own bedroom, so Louis again takes his issues outside. Niall will eventually be fine, he knows it, but it still doesn’t stop him from worrying. Zayn will probably take a longer period to recover from this.

It’s a few minutes later that Liam comes down and sits beside Louis.

“I have to take him to a hospital.”, he says.

Louis’ head snaps up and he is about to shout at him before Liam raises a hand and waves him off.

“Don’t. Zayn already nearly chocked me to death upstairs proving how that is dangerous.”

And Louis sees the way his shirt is rumpled and the redness on his neck and stares at Liam.

“Is he going to be fine Liam?”, he questions and bites his lip. He feels guilty that he didn’t consider Niall not being fine until now, but he really is too used to temporary injuries to even start considering anything else.

“I need to get a cast on him. Take an X-ray of the bone, fix it, treat it. It’s standard procedure, but I can’t do it without equipment.”

Of course. That was very, stupidly obvious, but Louis is of course prone to forget important shit like that these days.

“You can’t…. Liam, they’ll ask and they’ll arrest him!”, he shouts.

“There are ways Louis. He can say he got crushed by anything, a bar would work, something heavy and round shaped and it will fit the injury perfectly. They can do it. Zayn is helping him dress upstairs.”, he says.

Louis looks at him and wonders, not for the first time, why do they think they can trust him every time. They just do.

“Are you sure?”, he tries and Liam shrugs and nods again, claiming that they have to do it anyway or they might as well chop his hand of right now.

Louis nods and lowers his head in his hands.

“You better stay here, it would seem too suspicious if you are in the ambulance in the middle of the night as it is.”, Liam snaps him out of it when Zayn and Niall stumble down the stairs. Niall is standing, cradling his arm, but standing, a tight encouraging smile for Louis on his lips and Louis wants to fucking kill him for being as he is right now. Zayn doesn’t even acknowledge him, pulling Niall towards the door, too focused on keeping the mask of resilient, calm boyfriend to make an effort at anything else. He fails spectacularly again.

When they’re gone, Louis is left alone and scared again and he cradles the phone close before sighing and rubbing at his eyes. No distractions now.

Harry had a ritual of hiding evidence. Each time he arrived to Louis’ he would sneak off to the bathroom and check his neck, wrists, bags under his eyes, bruises, scratches, sometimes a split lip and all else he was trying to hide. Louis could see it, always could sense what hurt and what not to touch and it hurt to see Harry realize that he knows. The checking was done before going home too. This time for an odd hickey, smiley lines around the eyes, the smell of Louis on him and everything happy. It had to be erased before bracing the hell again and Louis was so, so sick of watching Harry go back. But there was no forcing him, that much was clear. And he kept quiet and tried his best to make Harry smile always. Be silent and watch him trace his kiss-swollen lips while staring at the mirror, forgetting to close the bathroom door again and giving Louis a front-row ticket to a most fucked up changing routine he ever saw. Harry knew how to hide the light Louis so desperately tried to set alight in him, exiting the book shop while frowning and serious, burdened and fidgety like there was no good in the world. It would kick around Louis’ stomach long after, the mask of pain and humiliation on Harry’s face that he would put on for his father, as much as he put on the carefree one for Louis. There was that one time that Harry begged for his touches and Louis forgot for a moment, he thought how ridiculous it is that Harry has to beg for anything at all, everything was his, the world that Louis could claw at and steal from, he would have it all. And then the band T-shirt that Harry wore was off and Louis recoiled like he’s been slapped. Bruises, so much of them, fading, colorful, yellow and green and purple and no, he could not possibly do this… Harry vomited for an hour straight afterwards, thinking that he was rejected because Louis found him repulsive, while Louis was scratching at the bathroom door, begging to be let in. There were no words with which he could justify refusing him, not to Harry at least, but there it was and after, when he tried anything, forcing himself to forget that the boy he wanted to touch was cracked and breakable and there was just no saying what move could bruise further, Harry would freeze and sit still until Louis gave up. He liked fooling himself that Harry understood Louis’ perspective, but what he liked to do and what was real were two things very, very far apart.   
He loved him for real though. Suffocating, undeniable love, the forever stuff from the poems. But Harry was bruised on more levels than the physical one and Louis couldn’t make love to a shell while trying to make the boy inside feel confident about himself. That was not what sex with the love of all your lives should be about. He thought he managed it sometimes though, to convince Harry that he was loved and that he didn’t have to rush into anything yet because Louis will wait for however long it took to get him out of this and into the light. There were lyrics ingrained into Louis’ mind, random, important verses written for Harry, jumbled and messed up, but gripping and pulling in:

“I’ll sing yourself to you,

piece by broken piece

until you see,

there is beauty in your tears

but don’t you ever, ever cry

if I can’t cry with you.”

The phone was vibrating for a while before Louis snapped out of it and noticed. The number was unknown and “Harry!” ran through his mind and there it was, the trembling finger over the button.

“Yes?”

“Is this Louis?”, a quiet female voice asked.

“Yes?”

“Oh, thank God I took the right number! Louis, it’s Lou, Harry’s friend from the restaurant, you remember?”, she sounded relieved and Louis was a step into full panic mode.

“Yes?”, not eloquent though.

“It’s… Are you free right now? I might’ve woken you up, but Harry…”

“What about Harry?!”, he shouted down the line at her, startling the words right of her mouth.

“He’s not letting me call the ambulance or anyone else, so I took your number from his phone, thought you would know because you’re all he talks about these days…”

Louis however lost it at “ambulance” and was out of his seat and at the door already.

“Where is he?!”

“My place. I’ll text you the address.”, she says and Louis is running like a lunatic even before the text arrives.

There are clouds of “No, no,no, just don’t be hurt that badly, don’t , please, don’t” around his head as he hails a taxi. Fear makes it last a century, but a desire to never face what he has to face right now makes it last a second and then he’s in front of an apartment complex built for families and he rings the name Atkin.

Lou exits on the balcony two floors above and waves him in. There is a man standing beside her when he enters the cozy little apartment and it’s not Harry, even though he is of the appropriate height.   
Louis stares at him and his tattooed arms and then at Lou, asking a million questions but voicing only one.

“Where?”

She smiles and rubs over his arms like she would to a child that is about to throw a tantrum. Louis steps away from her and shakes his head, waving his hands in a show of how much he can’t stand human contact right now.

“There is a couch in the kitchen, he’s there.”, she says and steps away for him to pass.

There are children’s toys all over the apartment, framed pictures of a smiling little girl with blonde hair and a wide-eyed reaction to everything. Harry is on some of them, adorably snuggled with the child. Louis is scared enough to try and stall confronting with whatever it is that he has to.

Then he enters the kitchen and the world is thrown off kilter.

Harry is sprawled out on the couch, left hand thrown over his eyes and the right one huddled across the side of his ribs like he’s cradling them. A packet of something with ice is on his right ankle and that leg keeps twitching, like he can’t stop noticing the pain. His head is thrown slightly back, so Louis can clearly see the angry fingerprints over his throat, and how they join together into a firm, determinant, chokingly purple ring that someone squeezed into the skin. He recoils and then snaps out of it. It takes him a moment to figure out that this is the most horrifying thing he will ever see and if he has to sacrifice himself and Zayn and Niall and everyone else on the planet to save this boy, he will.

“Harry.”, he says and Harry’s head snaps towards him fast enough to hurt.

“What are you…?”, he manages, but even his voice is bruised.

“Quiet.”, Louis says, coming closer and kneeling beside him. He reaches out and touches what he thinks is safe and unhurt.

Harry stares at him, all bloodshot eyes and despair. Louis stares back and leans in, breathing in the smell of his boyfriend. It helps a bit. They stare at each other for a few moments and Harry grimaces while trying to get the words out through his throat.   
“You need to go, he’ll find you.”, he says and Louis laughs bitterly.

“I’m not leaving again babe. No matter how hard you beg, from now on, you’ll not be protecting me.”, he tries for calm but there is rage, so much of it, boiling through his veins.

“Louis.”

“Don’t. Just don’t. You did your thing, you protected me, and it’s not working. You’re beaten beyond… There are no words for this. You can’t expect me to keep not talking about this now Harry. No way.”, his anger is visible and Harry can see it plain and clear now. Louis thanks the heavens that Harry didn’t flinch back at it, because he would tear the world apart in a second if he saw Harry getting scared of him.

“That’s not…” , Harry starts.

“Listen to me now. Please baby?”, he asks and if Harry doubts it for a few seconds, he regroups fast and nods.

“I know I fucked up this for you tonight. I know you’re broken because I couldn’t protect you from the shit that is my life. But I swear Harry, it’s all you from now on. Only you. And if you’re to be the most important person in my life, I can’t have you beaten for anything else ever again. Not to protect me, not to protect your family, not anyone. I want to help get you out. Forever. With me.”

He finishes and looks at him and thinks how this is it. This is where it snaps. If Harry says no…

Nothing will change. Louis will stay by his side as long as Harry would have him and Harry knows that, but maybe there is some reason and sense of his own well-being left in him.

“Not your fault. You should’ve told me. Trusted me. I wouldn’t sell you out. Ever.”, Harry squeezes the words out and grimaces all the while.

“I know. It’s my fault for not thinking this through though. But no more. If you forgive me for lying, I’ll never do anything that you might not like ever again. I swear.”, there are actual tears down his face now and Harry is actually attempting a smile.

“You can’t promise something like that Louis. No one can.”, he adds and lies back on the couch, grimacing all the while.

“Well, I am. Because you’re worth the effort. If you let me. Harry?”, he asks and Harry lifts his head up again to stare at him.

“Will you let me take you to Liam? To check how badly you are hurt?”

Harry starts waving his head no, but Louis stops him.

“I think he may have bruised you ribs. And your neck… It needs medication to stop hurting Curly. How did that animal go about twisting your ankle, Harry please let me…”, he gets carried away quickly, tone more livid by the second, but Harry’s fingers on his cheek bring him back.

“He didn’t. I tripped while I was running here. After the… After he chocked me.”, he says.

Louis has a fresh wave of tears down his cheeks and he isn’t even sorry for this.

“Please.”, he tries again and maybe some God is staring down at him and is kind enough to give him a fucking break in life, because Harry nods.

“I know. I have to get away. Or I’ll die like this. I know. But I’d rather not have you risking it with me.”, he says and Louis breathes out.

“I’m not giving you a choice there baby. Never have, never will. No leaving you. And that’s a promise I can make.”

Harry looks at him, questioning frown set in place and then looks away, squeezing his fingers again.

“Ok then. I’m not coming back.”, he nods and there is determination in his tone. Louis smiles and surges forward, peppering kisses all over his face. There are no visible bruises there and Harry tries a giggle, but his ribs hurt too much and it ends up a yelp.

“Can you get up? I’ll support you, go with me, yeah?”

And when Harry nods again, it gets so much easier to breathe. At least now he has a permanent reason to continue doing so.

***

They are in a taxi driving to the bookshop, Harry leaning on Louis and biting his lip to contain the whimpers when Louis’ phone buzzes.

It’s Zayn, asking where Louis is and telling him that they’re back from the ambulance. Harry raises his head from Louis shoulder and reads the text.

“Niall ok?”, he asks and Louis looks down on him, smiling.

“Had to get a cast put on him, but I’m sure he’s fine.”

Harry nods and goes to put his head on Louis’ shoulder once more, before he gets nudged a bit.

“I never sad thank you. For being a hero and saving all of us back there.”

He stops Harry’s attempt to wave his head no and presses his lips close to Harry’s ear.

“You were though. You saved us and I will owe you forever. I love you so much and when you kissed me in that bathroom before pushing me out it… it made me realize that there is no options after you. You’re it Harry Styles. My own piece of perfection.”, he says and if his voice trembles a bit, Harry’s quiet sob conceals it.

“Louis…”

“Don’t. I don’t need anything said after this. Just keep holding on to me and don’t let go, yeah babe?”

Harry grips on Louis knee with his fingers and turns as much as his ribs allow him to bury his face in Louis neck. He nods again.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of the last chapters. And this one is fluff, fluff, fluff. Also, they travel to Europe. Someone gets engaged and someone else loses their virginity :-)

So this is how Harry’s first proper adult (as much as you can be with 18 years of age) summer begins. He is beaten up and Liam says his ribs are bruised and the ankle will need a week or so to heal, his throat is bruised so bad that even whispering hurts.

But he’s never been happier. Finally, he can stay the night, as many nights as he wants and gets to wake up beside Louis and there is a hand to hold his throughout the night (only because he didn’t manage to convince Louis that a hug would not break him). He wakes up by the force of habit at the crack of dawn and then snuggles under the covers, warm and content and hurting a bit because painkillers are not working anymore. But there is absolutely no place in the world that he has to rush to go back to. Smiling, he nuzzles Louis’ hand and the other boy smiles in his sleep, eyelashes fluttering a bit, but doesn’t wake up and that is it. A whole day they slept through and Louis hasn’t moved an inch, stuck under the warmth of not having to let go.

So Harry makes a decision, chilly summer dawn or not outside, he will live a life where he doesn’t have to make any more excuses to have to leave this bed with this man in it. Even if it takes clawing through his own blood, he will never give up on it, lucky as he was to get it in the first place. The defiance of this compared to the sluggish ways of what he had to endure contrasts so much that the mere thought of it primes him for an adventure. High on the feeling of doing whatever the fuck he wants because he’s 18 and in love and it’s forever and he has someone to fight this through with, he reaches for his phone on the nightstand beside the bed and turns it on.

Lou has sent several messages and Harry reassures her that he’s fine and well and maybe she should consider quitting her job with Harry’s father, because Harry is getting away and there is no telling who might get hurt in the crossfire. Lou responds immediately.

“Finally dumbass! And don’t worry. I suffered through that asshole only for your sake anyway. Don’t worry about us, you’re not the only one dating a guy with connections in the underground circles. But when it dies down, I expect you to be here, Lux will miss her Uncle Harry very much J Good luck and take care H, all right?”

Harry smiles and thinks about having good people in his life even before Louis. It’s just that Louis showed him how he can rely on some of them sometimes. 

Father doesn’t send text messages, so there is only a missed call from him, disaster management attempt probably. He can’t have him thinking that Harry simply ran away from home though. If this is to be done properly, he has to show backbone for the first time and really? He’s been ready for more than a while.

“I’m away from now on. Don’t look for me, or I’ll go to police and report you. We both know you left enough evidence on me to lock you up.”

After, he turns the phone off and promptly falls asleep again.

***

Louis wakes him up later to make him take the medication. It’s a different experience to anything else, to have someone call you into consciousness with gentle words and whispers and Harry manages to groan and snuggle closer like an incoherent mess.

“Can I go back to sleep?”, he asks while the painkillers kick in, already dozing off, but Louis shakes his head no.

“Have to put the healing cream on your neck and chest sleepy head. You good with that?”

Harry frowns but nods anyway. It hurts, a lot, the swelling at its maximum and even though Louis already did this yesterday, now it’s a thousand times worse. Louis is trying to be as gentle as possible, but Harry hisses and tries to keep it in anyway. He fails and Louis leans in to distract him with kisses across the collarbone and jawline. Harry tries to move away, too aware that he is half naked and heavily bruised and clearly remembering how disgusted Louis was the last time he had to look at him in that state. He doesn’t want to force comfort kisses out of him, so he leans away, as much as he can, but Louis is not having it.

“Harry.”, he warns and it has a worse effect than possibly imagined, because now Harry squeezes his eyes shut and tries to push Louis’ head off of his chest.   
“I can do it alone, you don’t have to…”

“Harry!”, Louis snaps and Harry stares at him, surprised.

“Whatever you think about me not liking what I see…Stop it. Of course I hate the bruises. And I’m bloody sorry for not getting a boner right now, but you are blue and purple all over, and it hurts me to see at least a little bit of that what it hurts you to endure. I love you though. And nothing can make you seem anything less than beautifully perfect, not even this. “

Harry looks to his side and tries to coil up like a string into himself.

“Please don’t hide from me babe. There is nothing wrong with you and I can only help if you let me see, ok?”, Louis speaks to him like he is a small child and that makes Harry huff in annoyance, but he puts his hands beside on the sheets and stares at the ceiling while Louis continues.

“Are you mad at me?”, Louis asks when he’s done with the cream and helps Harry put his shirt back on.

Harry shrugs and looks away again.

“God, I have it bad for you, don’t I? I think you’re perfect even when you’re sulking.”, Louis teases him and Harry has to look at him for that one, eyebrows shooting into the fringe on his forehead.

“You heard me. Perfect. Beautiful. Very, very hot. And all mine.”, Louis repeats, coming closer and maybe Harry manages to forget about being insecure for a second, because Louis kisses him like a thirsty man would drink water.

***

“I’m glad you’re here.”, is the first thing Niall says to Harry when they finally meet downstairs and both Zayn and Louis look at them like they’ve both grown an additional head. Separately.

“Don’t mind Zayn, he wanted to open with a speech about how we appreciate what you did and didn’t do after discovering us. Told him there’s no actual need, because you know we always stick together, eh?”, Niall adds and if Harry chuckles a bit at that, Louis pulls him closer and manages a smile of his own.

“Niall you idiot, you’re disabled, yes, but not mentally impaired. Show same proper gratitude at my boy, yes?”, Louis reaches out to nudge Niall’s healthy hand and even though both Harry and Niall smile wide at that, Zayn is highly offended.

“He’s injured for God’s sake, stop it!”

Niall lens closer to Harry on the couch, both of them having to struggle against protective grabby hands all over and mock-whispers:

“Want to be bet on which one of them is going to be a bigger cunt with this ‘injury’ business?”

He holds out a hand and even though Louis and Zayn are both gasping, Harry manages to shake it with a serious face and then promptly breaks into another smile.

“Already betting against me?”, Louis exclaims and cuddles Harry close again.

“I’m betting on you actually. Absolutely.”, Harry smiles up at him.

“As long as you don’t forget that it’s me and you in the dream team sweetie, not you and the leprechaun over there.”

“No, you and me, I promise.”

And they kiss and absolutely ignore both Niall and Zayn groaning and complaining about there being boundaries in exchanging saliva in front of perfectly innocent people.

It sounds weirdly like friendly banter, but what Harry actually hears is:

“Welcome to the gang.”

And it’s good to meet home.

***

“Do you really want to do this?”, Louis asks him when they’re alone in the room for their second night in his apartment.

Harry doesn’t really think about the offer Niall and Zayn made, travelling to Europe for a bit to let things in London calm down. He doesn’t have to, because he is absolutely sure that he wants to do it.

“Yes.”, he mutters and Louis shuffles closer on the mattress to stare at him.

“I’ve never seen Europe you know?”, he says and Harry smiles a bit, extending one hand to comb through Louis’ hair.

“Me neither. Not properly. Not with you.”, he says back and closes his eyes to sleep. Rest comes easy when you have an actual life that you want to be living.

They wait a week for Niall and Harry to heal, playing games and reading to each other. Louis is insufferable and makes a fuss about everything, especially Harry making any kind of effort. Harry (secretly) loves it. Zayn and Niall are in their own world of quiet conversations with a thousand hidden meanings. Harry thinks about how they grew up together and molded against each other until there were no options except for them to join into one and… it makes perfect sense. When it feels right, you now, and that is from where you don’t have to make many smart decisions further on. Life has given you a whole person bonus to pull you out of trouble.

But when they’re finally ready to go, the first ticket bought with the money from Zayn’s emptied bank account is for Paris. And well… They don’t call it the city of love for no reason.

Louis huffs the entire way up the Eiffel Tower and moans about how he isn’t really afraid of heights, but did they really have to do this and could it possibly be any more of a cliché and so on until they are actually at the top. There are many shiny lights everywhere and the world looks like it’s been stabbed and bleeds the warmth away, but Harry doesn’t actually look at it that much. There are people around them, whispering about the magnificence of it all and Harry has seen bloody Paris before, but he’s never seen Louis so amazed before, so he has to agree with the magnificence part. If their lips are bruised and breaths barely caught when they decide to go see something else, it’s more than alright.

They find Zayn hand-feeding Niall in one of the restaurants near their hostel, both of them cackling at nothing and Harry is about to propose leaving them alone, but Louis has another plan altogether. The dawn catches them sitting at Pont des Arts, staring down the Seine and trying to sober up enough to walk anywhere else. Harry is a giggly, deranged drunk, Louis tells him when they’re back at the hostel, looking delighted to have acquired that knowledge.

Niall wants to go to Amsterdam next. It’s a very, possibly, certainly bad idea but they all agree and that is how Harry gets high for the first time in his life. Usefully, Louis claims that high Harry likes to fall asleep on any surface available. Meaning on Louis mainly. Amsterdam feels like a fairytale-ish city where bits and pieces of memory get robbed from you as soon as you cross the road to the other side of where you made the memories. Late at night, Harry stares at the ceiling in their room, Louis’ breath steady by his side and he hides smiles in the shadows, in a foreign city miles from what he learned to call home, just to keep them safe and solid forever. He gets scared sometimes, thinking about what could and what will be, but the next second one of the other three is pulling on his arm to go see some other adventure and the worry gets lost in soft strands of loving life.

Afterwards, Louis gets to pick a city and he picks Copenhagen. Zayn and Niall nod like they know stuff about the city that are top secret to both Harry and Louis and proceed to abandon them for the entire stay there. Not that they mind. By the time they’re supposed to leave, the Pride Parade starts, and isn’t that perfectly timed? Zayn laughs at Louis’ predictability for hours. Louis swears he had no idea, which, well, Harry figures that it’s not really important. They stay for a few days more then and if there is a guy that tries buying Harry a drink for one minute Louis left him alone, Harry thinks it’s hilarious that his boyfriend is a possessive, sassy kind that humiliates the poor guy in 5 seconds it takes Harry to explain that he is very much spoken for. Zayn and Niall are no better of course, claiming their territory by nearly outright fucking in the middle of the street.

They want to go to Paris again ( Zayn claims he forgot something very important to do) and Harry and Louis wave them off with promises to return there in 2 weeks.

“We are going on and adventure!”, Louis says, all too happy to have only Harry along for this one.

When they’re in their train to Biarritz (because Louis claims he can surf and wants to teach Harry), he asks in a tiny, disinterested tone, trying to make it look like he doesn’t care.

“Louis?”

“Hm?”, the boy mutters, nuzzling Harry’s hair with his nose.

“Are they going to… to steal something from Paris?”

Harry tones it down to mild interest, but he is really scared of the answer. Mainly because he just got his freedom properly and he wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize it now. And if Louis agrees with it, then a few promises also fall into the void of something Harry thought they surpassed.

“No! I told you there’ll be no more of that. Not while you and I are around.”, Louis sits up immediately and turns around to properly look at him.

“Ok.”, Harry says and makes it look like it’s either way with him, but Louis, of course knows better.

“You know, pretending to not care about things you tremble about does not suit you babe. And I thought you knew you can trust me? I promised, remember?”, he says, sincere smile on his lips. Harry is very aware that he would end up trusting him even if he wasn’t telling the truth. That scares him a bit, and he is endlessly grateful that Louis is.

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for. Just… I mean what I said that night when I picked you up. No lies, no half-truths, no hiding. And it still stands.”

Harry nods and they snuggle back together before Louis has his final word.

“Besides, I got you away from them to buy you a proper, fancy suit, you idiot.”

“What? Why?!”, Harry sits up again and Louis giggles.

“Because you’ll need it when we come back to Paris. You’re going to be one of the best men at their wedding sweetheart.”

Harry’s eyes pop out and he slaps Louis over the arm like an overexcited fangirl.

“When did Zayn propose?!”

“He didn’t. That’s why he took him back to Paris for. And the two of us need to come back just in time for the ceremony. You’ll be Niall’s, I will be Zayn’s. Even helped him pick out a ring in Amsterdam and everything. While you and Zayn’s future hungrier half were high as flying fucks.”

Louis is all too happy to introduce Harry to all the details of this elaborate scheme that was set in motion even before they left England and well… Dating a friend of two criminal masterminds seems to pay off, at least in terms of suspense in your life.

They’re about to fall asleep leaning on each other, when Louis nudges Harry’s shoulder again.

“What now?”

“Oh nothing. Just thought to let you know that you’ll be the flower girl too.”

Harry loves him, really does, but that doesn’t mean he has to be gentle about letting him know what he thinks about that idea. But he does, anyway.

***

Louis is fairly good at surfing. Not a professional, but a solid effort of grace and a confident grip of whatever it is people are supposed to figure out to properly surf. He falls, laughs, splashes everyone around and people love him, everyone from grandmother to grandchild on the whole damn beach. Not to mention that is ass looks sinful in those skin-tight, gripping black things that surfers wear. Everyone that is in the reproductive age notices of course.

Harry is epically challenged to keep his balance even on two feet and with a solid, obstacle-free ground in front of him. He is very bad at surfing and his lack of confidence shines through to everything he does. It’s a very miserable first day at the beach they spend. Harry would like to say that the only reason he is pissed off is that he can’t figure out the surfing, but that would be an obvious lie. People approach Louis from every possible side of wherever and Harry is inadequate and unnecessary in the face of so many cute girls and chiseled abs of guys that eat Louis up with their eyes. It makes him so angry that he wants to fight someone and Louis with his general joy of just being outside and loving everything doesn’t help one bit. He doesn’t flirt or even look at anyone properly, Harry knows Louis’ attention is limited to him in that regard, but he can’t help but cringe. His bruises have finally faded and he can actually take his clothes off without alerting the police. But he still hides behind a full-body surf suit and makes a large effort to not attract any attention to himself. Fear of people staring, people seeing, people realizing, people judging and hurting is all encompassing.

“You look perfect.”, Louis says and Harry believes that he looks decent, but he is still scared and insecure and everything is just a little bit off. The world he wants to live in is not always a perfectly comfortable place, he realizes.

So that is how they have their first proper fight (because they both deny that “the creature” is relevant).

Louis goes to buy them some lunch after he spent a third morning surfing (Harry trying to keep up and managing only to slow him down and worry about whether Harry has broken his neck). So he spent about half an hour sitting on the beach waiting for Louis to come with the lunch and that is when he hears some guys talking behind them. In conclusion, Louis is a fine piece of ass and if they could only get rid of the pasty twink that clings to him, maybe they could have some fun. Harry’s blood boils and he is on his feet in a second, fists clenched and sight narrowed down to one particular idiot. That would be the worst possible moment for Louis to arrive and walk towards him frowning at his stance.

“Harry, babe, who are you looking at?”, he asks and the guy hears him and laughs and Harry sees a little more red before charging at him.

A few seconds later, the idiot is cradling the side of his face and his friends have jumped forward, but Louis throws himself at Harry and holds him back, shouting and gripping where he can reach. Harry stops and turns to look at him and what he sees scares him, because Louis is livid.

“What the fuck are you doing, are you insane?!”, he shouts and Harry refuses to be a child that is being scolded by his own boyfriend, so he scolds his features into indifference and stomps away. Which is very mature, in retrospect.

Louis tries catching up and does eventually, further up the beach, grabs Harry by the arm and shouts at him to stop.

“What the fuck do you want?! What?!”, Harry turns around and shouts back, so that Louis stumbles back.

“Harry, babe, what…”, he tries, but Harry is seeing red again.

“What?! You want to keep me from bashing his face in? Then go back to him and his cheap, miserable lines and believe them and go fuck him for all I care! Go!”, he screams at the top of his lungs and Louis starts shaking in front of him. Harry would stop and think and take it back if he could, but there is a flood of never good enough every fucking time eating away at him and it’s not Louis’ fault but Louis is there and it’s perhaps easier that way.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry babe, what guy, there is no guy, I swear…”, Louis gets choked up with something, not tears yet but nearly there and Harry snaps out of it.

He shakes his head and steps back to sit in the sand and stare ahead. Louis is uncomfortably standing beside him, fidgety and nervous and when he finally sits down, his hands are trembling like he’s afraid to touch him.

“Harry, babe, will you… What happened?”, he asks quietly and that makes the tears even more prominent in his voice.

“That guy you held me back from wanted you and obviously didn’t care that you were with someone and he said something about “having fun” with you and I stand up to take care of it like I have a right to and there you are, holding me back like I’m a child.”, he huffs and it sounds so childish even to him, that he nearly gets angry again.   
Louis doesn’t laugh but scoots closer and keeps quiet for a while.

“I don’t even remember there was a guy. A blur of fleshy-colored something maybe, but certainly not a whole person and you should have told me that calmly. We could have demonstrated who I belong to right then and there.”, there is a bit of mischief in his voice, but still an attempt to make things better and Harry’s lips tug into a hint of a smile before dropping back into a frown.

“Why didn’t you just let me take care of it? People come on to you day and night, all the time, you can’t expect me to accept it normally and not get pissed off.”

“People come on to both of us Harry, doesn’t mean I approve of you throwing punches when you just got away from getting beaten day and night.”

And Louis is annoyed, that much is obvious now.

“That doesn’t…”

“That has everything to do with it Harry! Your ribs are barely not bruised anymore and you want to start throwing punches at someone for something that you should bloody well know is already yours. I love you. You! And loving you means that I would probably break in two if some asshole I never even paid any attention too managed to hit you and hurt you. Don’t get screaming at me again.”, he warns when Harry turns towards him and Harry’s features soften.

“I apologize for that.”, he says and looks down and Louis huffs and stomps his foot at the sand.

“Don’t speak to me like I’m a headmaster or something, you idiot! I’m your boyfriend and if you start screaming at me, I expect it to be over something I fucked up, not over an insignificant cunt that pissed you off where you should have ignored him! You could have marked your territory in a thousand different ways!”

Harry is quiet so Louis falls silent too.

“Eat.”, he finally nudges him with a sandwich and looks away when Harry turns around to take it. He figures he should be silent and apologetic now, because this really is his fault and not Louis’.

“Harry.”, Louis says when he’s finished with his sandwich. Harry turns to him and sees that he’s shivering slightly, twists his fingers to reach out and then stops, because should he?

“Could you hug me please?”, Louis asks quietly and that settles it. Harry extends towards him and engulfs him as best as he can and Louis sniffs at something while cuddling in Harry’s neck.

“Can’t believe you told me to go fuck someone else, can’t fucking believe you Styles.”, Louis murmurs into his neck. Harry stiffens for a moment and then continues combing through his hair.

“Well… I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry.”

Louis nods in his neck and that’s how their first official fight ends.

Later, when they go for a swim before the night falls a guy asks Louis out on bad French while Harry is just behind a curtain in the open changing area of the beach, Harry doesn’t even have time to process what he should do, because really, two times in one day? He thinks it’s fairly harmless and Louis’ French is even worse, so he doesn’t react and just continues pulling his jeans up. However, Louis pulls him outside the curtain and to himself and purrs into his ear until he gets the sass snogged out of him right in front of the guy. Harry can’t help thinking how sometimes he can be stupid and childish, but also very, incredibly smug whenever he pleases, because he really has this man.

***

They don’t go swimming anymore. Instead, Louis takes him shopping and tries everything on him. They find the suits easily, dark green for Harry and grey for Louis and they giggle so much through the dress up that the lady in the shop ends up convinced that they’re the ones getting married. Louis chuckles at her besotted smile and drags Harry out, bags in hand.

Since he decided the school-boy, business-like style is very far from what he feels comfortable in, Harry has braved jeans and a T-shirt and an occasional beanie and Louis loved it. But it wasn’t quite what fit perfectly and the vague picture Harry had in his head doesn’t offer much help in choosing. Louis makes him try blazers and hoodies on, and even though it’s fine, it isn’t “the thing”. When he complains, Louis huffs how he has the gayest boyfriend on the planet, but goes seeking for further inspiration.

In the end, it’s not Louis that chooses it. Harry sees a plaid shirt and thinks of trying it on and then there are those skinny jeans that look like they could fit and that’s it. He feels ridiculous trying it on, being half convinced that it’s never going to fit together anyway, not on him. But it does. He feels… cool. It’s been a long time since the last time that happened.

He calls for Louis to come and when he does approach and raise his head from the pile of jeans he is carrying towards Harry, he knows he’s made the right choice as far as Louis is concerned.

Now he doesn’t feel simply cool, he feels actually wanted, hungered after more like, because Louis doesn’t manage to conceal any of the thoughts that fly through his head. Harry rather likes those thoughts. He really, really does, especially when Louis throws the damn pile away and pulls him in by the plaid shirt. He doesn’t kiss him, simply holds him there, pupils blown wide open and breath out in huffs.

“You like?”, Harry tries smirking and it must have worked perfectly, because Louis mouths a “Damn you!” and snogs him.

Shirt and trousers bought (and worn), they stumble out of the shop and Louis leans in to kiss him in the middle of the street. Harry breathes in and thinks how he has to risk it one more time, now or never and the rest of the things.

“Louis?”

“Hm?”

“I want you to take my virginity. Now.”

Harry fidgets but bravely looks at him. Louis on the other hand is baffled. First, he turns around and looks at the damn street like he’s actually judging the location and then stares at Harry.

“You are sure about that? Not because of the moment, but generally, certainly sure?”, he asks and the tone is serious, even though his eyes are smiling.

“Yes. If you want to that is.”, Harry adds and Louis is pulling him in again and responding with a kiss.

***

It’s not romantic in terms of rose petals or red candles. It is however, utterly perfect in their own way. The sun is just setting on the city and they’re in the room with a view on the ocean and life is perfectly perfect. Louis sits on the bed and pulls at Harry’s hands until he’s straddling Louis’ lap. Then he smiles and leans up to kiss the outer corner of his lips. Harry exhales, as if he’s not so sure that he will get a chance to breathe in again. He can feel the smile on his lips though, permanent feature of this past few weeks and he leans further in to kiss properly.

When they’re lying down and Louis starts unbuttoning the shirt, Harry closes his eyes, but Louis bites at his neck until he manages to promise they’ll remain open. The sun rays hit across his naked back when Louis tugs the shirt off and Harry keeps looking, searching for anything but admiration and love on Louis’ face. He doesn’t find it. They kiss until their lips are bruised after that, all intertwined fingers and huffs of breath between tongues. Louis manages to tug his jeans off, but Harry’s are a considerable challenge, being as tight as they are. Harry blushes at that and even though the light is fading, Louis sees it and chases the color right across his cheeks while giggling. It takes a bit longer to tug them off then.

Standing over him, Louis smiles before grabbing the waistband of Harry’s bowers and starts tugging down, mouth a silent “o” when Harry’s cock springs out.

“You are… You are beautiful.”, Louis says and chuckles, leaning down to kiss him again and his ass left exposed for Harry to grope. Which he does, eagerly.

“And huge.”, Louis whispers in his ear and Harry chokes on his breath.

Louis is… Louis is perfect and that was known before, but this, absolutely naked Louis in the golden light above him, it seems surreal and nobody was ever ready to look at him and not forget how to breathe. Again. Louis sees the look Harry gives him and it seems like he glows fucking brighter under it, smiley and comforting and so sexy Harry thinks he will come then and there.

It takes a bigger challenge, of Louis actually touching him, from his chest down until he reaches his cock, that makes Harry nearly come though. Louis shushes him and leans away to grab the lube they prepared. It makes sense that there is no foreplay, because Harry already feels like he will faint. Louis’ fingers are firm and gentle at the same time as they caress around his cock, lower and lower and then around his rim. He’s obviously never been touched by anyone but himself down there and it’s surprisingly mind-blowing to close his eyes and allow the fingers to surprise with touches and probes and when Louis pushes the first one in, Harry isn’t even feeling like he remembers that this should hurt.

Pain comes on the second one, maybe, he never really remembers it after the moment is gone, because Louis is not wasting any time in scissoring and touching everywhere. Harry keeps his eyes closed and the way Louis curves his fingers when he nears that spot makes him open them to see a smirking boy above him.

“Please Louis, please…”, he says, like he thought he would need to convince him to do this, but Louis is quick to silence him with the finger of the other hand on his lips.

Quietly. That’s how it goes. Louis pulls his fingers out and lubes himself up and there is a second, pushing slowly in. There is no teasing and there are no sounds, just the golden silence of the sunset and the air around them holds a breath in to accommodate for that moment. Harry holds his breath in until he can’t anymore, until Louis is all the way in, until there is a hand on his neck, pulling him in and pulling him apart.

Then, the noise rushes in and Harry releases something between a moan and a scream as Louis starts moving. He looks and sees and can never stop seeing, how Louis’ eyes are trained on the muscles of Harry’s face, chasing the evidence of when does it hurt and is it too much and what can he do, because Harry is obviously not prepared for words. He nods instead and Louis keeps moving.

It lasts too short and also perfectly long before Harry coils up like a wire and starts coming all over himself. He sees the sea and gold and Louis and everything in a split second and then it all disappears in a storm of white and air is whooshed into him and there is complete silence in his ears still.

It’s pretty much the best feeling ever. The first sounds that come to him are Louis’ almost pained sobs as he comes in him, cock spurting right inside as Harry tries to embrace the shaking boy that has fallen somewhere between his shoulder and neck. He stills and not even the sea outside seems to be moving as they catch their breaths. Louis moans and wiggles a bit as he raises himself to his forearms, leaning away to catch a glimpse of Harry.

“I am alright. Perfect. Magnificent. Also, so not a virgin anymore.”, Harry wants to say it all, but it’s only a wide, drunken smile that graces his face and Louis returns it absolutely.

He pulls out and Harry snuggles into him in return, still breathing deep and so aware that he doesn’t have to speak a word in his life ever again and it would be perfectly fine with him.

Louis is also happy to keep quiet after something huge happens, for once in his life. They lie in the mess of white sheets and look at each other, absolutely ignoring the night getting darker and sea getting louder outside.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry for the long pause, I just had a lot on my plate the last few months.  
> Petrichor is going to be finished in a chapter or possibly two, so yes. It has been a long ride. 
> 
> Let me know what you think about it :-)

They are very nearly late for their train the next morning. But, the Paris wedding is obviously not destined to occur without the two of them, so they catch it. It means that Louis spends none of the morning snuggling and cuddling and generally fretting over Harry like he would like to, but instead rushes out of the hotel room and to the train station like he is on fire, Harry laughing at the sky behind him, like he is on drugs.

  
The boy is too happy for his own good, giggly and mellow and impossible to make nervous about anything, _finally_. Louis stares at him, long body stretched out over three seats in an empty train compartment, tapping his feet slightly to the music only he hears and a smug little smirk at the edge of his mouth. Louis wants to kiss it until it is permanently stuck there, a mark of confidence and general satisfaction with life, screaming with being comfortable in his own body, in this time and space and moment and it is insane how good it suits Harry to look like this. His hair is an unruly mess of curls, eyes clear and bright and huge, fingers tapping to the rhythm of the train tracks all over Louis’ arms, lips still swollen and sinfully red and well… If he knew getting laid would make Harry feel, behave and look like this, Louis would maybe not wait that long.

  
Just maybe though. Because the whispers of how Harry needs slow and easy and trust and happy and just… simply _good_ , finally, are everywhere in Louis’ blood, have been since he saw Harry for the first time and the only difference is that now he knows that the uneasy pressure on his chest he gets sometimes is exactly just a tendency to try and slow the world down so that the edges of time themselves don’t hurt this boy too much. He wants to preserve him this happy, but he also knows he can’t, that the fragile beauty is exactly that, fragile. And maybe it would make him freak out very much, but he finds himself amazed at Harry’s strength as much as he does with this innocence against what he has to deal with.  
How are they going to do this now though, _that_ he doesn’t know. Does he not allow Harry to see his father ever again, does he go to confront the man on this own, what the hell happens when Harry thinks that he can deal again and tries to do one of his brave acts? He figures it is important to know and see that he has a man by his side, not a child, that what he treasures is a partnership, not a one-sided dependency and also, as is evident, that he can fuck up in the idea of being smart and brave and independent as much as Harry can. So, breathe in, breathe out, think it over, live the life. And don’t let go of Harry. Also, don’t let Harry let go of him. That is how this should work.

  
“You are thinking about idiotic things.”, Harry announces loudly and Louis flinches, looks down to his lap where Harry is lying, body stretched on the seats beside him, his curls entangled in Louis’ fingers.

“I am? How would you know?”, he smiles gently as Harry blinks his eyes open at him. He is golden, in the morning sun that reaches him through the smudgy window of the moving train. Outside, the coastline is sneaking away for a while before the train turns north, the summer shiny and fresh in the air. But Louis doesn’t really notice the out when he has Harry on the in like this.

“The cogs in your brain. Hear them turning over nothing.”

Louis lets his mouth drop open like he is offended.  
“ Are you calling me empty-headed my dear boyfriend?!”

Harry giggles and turns his face into Louis’ thigh, shoulders shaking with laughter.

“Well, you are not the geek of this relationship, are you love?”

Louis stretches his lips into a languid smile at that, drunk on them, in public, saying “love” and being young and idiotic.

“There are no geeks in this relationship honey, we established that last night.”, he shrugs.

“Oh I wouldn’t know. I could very easily slick my hair back again and I keep needing glasses on a daily basis, so…”, Harry pouts up at him.

“You don’t get to dress up like this and deny it on me later on.”, Louis threatens and Harry chokes up laughing at the serious tone of his voice. In the skinny jeans and a plaid shirt thrown carelessly on, still, looking like sin and heaven wrapped up into one present with a bow of curls on top.

It’s a very light tone of bickering that covers up their three hour drive to Paris, Louis looking and staring and storing everything in his mind like it could slip away. Harry just remains happy.

Niall and Zayn are beaming like a galaxy of suns when they exit the station and spot them, holding hands and cuddling in the middle of street, all lost and adorable. Harry stops Louis on the other side of the street and just makes him look at them, a friendly smile at his lips and Louis is so, very much proud of himself for having this little family right here.

“Oi you idiots, I thought I came here for a wedding!”, he shouts across and Harry hits him lightly on the chest as to reprimand him for ruining the moment, while really, Niall and Zayn run at them while holding hands and launch into a symphony of laughs and hugs and that is how they stumble to the hostel where their rooms are.

  
Zayn is a nervous wreck, Louis sees it very clearly as soon as he lets go of Niall’s hand to go get dressed. He steals a glance down the corridor after Niall and Harry, where Zayn’s future spouse is talking Harry’s ear off already.

“Having cold feet Malik?”, he teases and the way Zayn whips his head around to look at him would be very funny, if it wasn’t for pure terror that is evident on his face. Or really, it is very funny whichever way you look at him.

“I want to marry Niall Louis, don’t, just… shut up. I had to convince him that this is what I want two times already, he keeps freaking out that I will give up and leave him and no, I would never, ever, not in a million years…”, Zayn’s words bubble up to the surface with speed and in quantity that Louis has never heard in his life.

“Zayn.”, he interrupts and Zayn straightens up like he is in the army about to report on an attack gone wrong.

“Sit down.”, he says and when Zayn complies:  
“Now, what is the problem here?”

Zayn breathes in and lets it out slowly, words stumbling out.  
“I wanted to marry him since high school man. It wasn’t always very clear, but I think I knew even back then. But I just didn’t plan on marrying him without having a house with a porch somewhere for him. And a sure and stable way to provide for him, you know? Not… not this mess I got us into. What if… Not if, what when Niall figures out that he can have it better than a thief?”

Louis looks at his friend and sadness encompasses him like a cloak of air, heavy and unavoidable. Zayn falls silent and drops his head to his arms like he has something to be ashamed of and possibly, very much, yes, he has, but also… Life is for finding your way in it and maybe not everyone can avoid getting black ink on them along the way, but it’s not like they are monsters because of it. He does know that it was probably written, somewhere before history started happening, that he will be the one to lead Zayn though this, like high school friends turned brothers do, knowing him better than he knows himself sometimes.

“You know, that was the only time I ever saw people fall in love, you and Niall I mean. And it made perfect sense back then and it makes perfect sense right now. You don’t owe excuses to anyone man. And Niall isn’t asking for them. He wants you. Always. After all the crap and the hurt and the pain, he pushed through for you and when you sign that paper today, the pushing through will not stop. So suck it up and worry about life later on, yeah? You know you want this. And I know you will never let Niall go, no matter what happens.”

Zayn looks at him and smiles and punches him in the shoulder, waving their gang sing in front his face.  
“How very mature of you, Louis Tomlinson. Careful, I might actually think that you are getting all grown up on me.” he teases.

Louis smacks him over the head for that one.

  
It’s an hour later, when both he and Zayn are ready and proper dressed up, in a cab taking them to the city hall, that he actually realizes that it’s going to be different from now on. Two of his brothers are getting married and starting something new and Louis is the one looking at their retreating backs this time. He feels bittersweet sadness mixing with the endless joy ever-present because they actually got this far.

“I will kill you if you don’t make me return this favor, you know that, right?”, Zayn asks him and Louis looks over at him.

“What favor Zaynie?”, he says, annoying him with the nickname to distract them from the gravity of this what they are about to do.

“Being best man idiot. You will have to do this eventually too. And not only because I want to, but because Niall already planned out your wedding gift.”

Louis smiles and shrugs and looks out the window again.  
“Niall doesn’t have to buy a gift, he keeps repairing his glasses.”

Zayn laughs along with it, not saying what he must be thinking: how Louis never really had a guy as a permanent fixture in their lives before.

  
Speaking of permanent fixtures, Niall is not prone to freak out as much as Zayn is, that is visible from the first minute Louis lays eyes on him. He and Harry are laughing about something when Louis goes to check on them in a small room beside the main hall where the wedding ceremonies are being held. There are couples everywhere, brides sobbing into their mother’s and sister’s arms, an occasional father wiping his eyes suspiciously and in the middle of it, Niall and Harry. Louis waves his arms around dramatically when Harry turns to him, suit fitting perfectly and well… He doesn’t get breathless. Or rather, he is constantly breathless from this boy, but most of all when he catches a moment when Harry doesn’t try, when he is private and tender and simply him. Harry blushes and looks at him like the sun just walked into the room and when they kiss as a greeting, there are whispers on French all around them. Louis tenses, thinking how he will be damned if anyone makes Harry feel like he can’t have this now, but of course his boyfriend is fluid in French.

“They say it’s bad luck to do this before we get married.”, he whispers in Louis’ neck, blushing more even if no one can embarrass him now. Doesn’t mean that Louis won’t try.  
Louis laughs and gropes him obscenely just for the hell of it, having Niall laugh and high five him behind Harry’s back.

  
Later, it’s a line of people that they have to get through in order to get to the actual table and witness the moment when Zayn and Niall exchange rings. There are no vows spoken out loud, just the sentences they whisper into each other’s ears in front of everyone, perfectly secretive and distant from everyone in the world as they have been since forever. Louis knows, but he doesn’t really have to know, that Niall is apologizing for being unreasonable and promising stability and that Zayn is telling him how he is such an idiot, but he is Zayn’s idiot and how he will take care of him, always, forever, no matter what the damn paper says.

But the line where Louis signs, right across from Harry, on that very paper, it just confirms that these two have each other for the rest of time and all the places and the tender fact that they didn’t have to say anything except that they do, whatever the ‘I Do’ means for the two of them, that portrays how wrapped into ‘them’ have Zayn and Niall always been. Their first married kiss is very sweet and perfect and Louis looks over at Harry and beams while taking photos. His boy has tears in his eyes, of course he does. Louis puts the camera down and pulls him in, combs his curls away from his face and kisses his eyelids gently, a promise that he is allowed to cry his eyes out, but he really doesn’t need to.

Harry is very timid with hugging him then, like it’s overbearing to do it in a room full of people in various stages of joy and perfection and official celebration, but Louis gets it, knows when this has to go slow, so he lets Harry pace himself. Doesn’t keep him from beaming at people around him though, proud of two husbands hugging beside him, his best friends, his two idiots that did it right and especially of this boy that chooses _him_ to hug.

When they run outside, Niall is holding a weeping Zayn and if that isn’t all shades of adorable, Louis doesn’t know what is. He has a reservation for a fancy restaurant in the center of the city (a wedding present), all waiters and food which they can’t pronounce (Harry can, Harry does, Louis laughs until his sides hurt).

Niall and Zayn don’t let go of each other’s hand, not even while they eat and Harry and Louis tease them without mercy. It’s after two hours of it all and quite a few bottles of wine, that they stumble out (Harry does, Louis laughs again). They are up for leaving the happily married couple alone to “consumate the marriage” (Niall scoffs at this and hits Louis on the head), but Zayn and Niall don’t let them. Because, evidently, the Irish go and drink their volume in Guinness when they marry. The closest Irish pub it is, in the middle of Paris, a mess of beer, a screaming Niall and a very whipped Zayn. Louis would laugh, except that the bartender keeps sending Harry drinks and he would really go and smash her head in, but Harry is too drunk to understand anything except that snogging in an Irish pub is evidently what he wants to do, even though it might not be the best idea (it is, kissing Harry is always a good idea, the bartender fucks off and no one starts trouble, because Niall looks to be the craziest, most passionate Irish guy around, so he deserves respect).

It’s good. It’s what memories are made of, smell of beer and taste of a boy he loves and sweat down his back because said boy makes him all hot and bothered and the boy lost his virginity just yesterday and discovered a world of driving Louis crazy apparently. Harry’s sweaty curls stick to Louis cheek when he snuggles in, whispering “I love you’s” in his ears and getting Louis drunk on it. The beat of random rock songs surges through his chest and he would scream like a beast and howl at the moon (hypothetically, because the clouds are in and it’s raining like crazy outside).

Niall announces that he just had enough right that instant and that he is going to go get fucked on his wedding night thank you very much. Zayn blushes (the world stops shortly because of that, trying to wrap gravity about the fact that fucking Zayn Malik is evidently capable of blushing).

Stumbling outside again (all of them this time), Niall and Zayn start kissing against an alley wall immediately, gone for the world, their hands everywhere and Louis has just enough brains left to hail a taxi and push them inside, shouting the address of their hotel.

He and Harry are left standing in the middle of the road, no idea what to do. Louis is about to go and sit on the sidewalk, jeans already soaked through with the rain (it’s Paris summer rain, he loves it), when Harry grabs his arm and pulls him across the street.

“What the fuck Harry, we are not drinking anymore, no way!”, he shouts, but the boy keeps pulling and even though he can’t be coherent now, he can point and Louis has to squint through the rain to read that they are in front of a tattoo parlor.

Now, he should be smart and careful about this, Harry apparently wants a tattoo and it’s all shades of idiotic to do it now when they are drunk. But what really happens is that he remembers his first tattoo, the “It is what it is” across his chest and how he was a reckless idiot who made a decision while drunk with a boyfriend a century ago, how he was alone trembling under the needle while said boyfriend fell asleep as drunk as he was, how he stared at the ceiling, drunk and everything spinning, but he was just certain that he regrets every piece of his life, the loneliness and the boyfriend and the alcohol and the sex he keeps having with that idiot sleeping right there, but he doesn’t regret the “It is what it is”, because, really, that is just what it is. His decision, his right to fuck up, his regret and his pride and he is totally independent to make all of the mistakes and he will damn well decide what and when and where and even when he regrets it, it will be his choice to let it bother him. Or not. So, he knows. And he gets it, truly he does, just that Harry will not have the same experience, because Louis is present.

Sliding his fingers through Harry’s wet locks, he lifts his face up beneath the light of a street lamp flickering in the rain and smiles a bit.

“Are you sure love? Really sure?”

Harry is out of it, yes, but he nods and smiles and purrs while Louis’ fingers keep combing through his hair.  
So that is how they end up inside, a worried artist looking them over, but they are giggly and just stupidly in love now, there are no boundaries, no stop signs, and when Harry takes the book to choose what he wants, it’s Louis that supports his weight and lets him check it out. Looks up and sees it on the wall in front of them, a stupid, best idea he will ever have in his life.

The cloud is black and smudgy and there is rain drawn from it, a downpour of it and right below, there is a road, parched soil in which everything died a long time ago. One the side, one drop of that ran evaporates from the ground, a smoke of hope and life trapped in black ink on the paper, shaped like a fragile heart and Louis is just in love with it. He thinks, this is how Harry makes him feel, like a desert that just got a sip of life to make it breathe again, not suspended in the heat of hell of doubt of fear anymore. When Harry looks up and sees it he gasps and grips Louis’ hand and that is how he knows.

He goes first, Harry sobered up and glassy eyed while he watches the artist ink Louis’ upper forearm, on the inside with the droplets of rain and the smudge of a cloud. It looks magnificent, but utterly pointless, like that "alone and gloomy and unnecessary" raining that sometimes happens, and it’s having no purpose to give but still giving, that rain.  
When it’s Harry’s turn, he looks worried about Louis’ bandaged arm, but sits in the chair nonetheless and just breathes in, stretching his arm slowly. It will hurt more, on the lower part of a forearm where Harry wants to get it, so it would fit in with Louis’ perfectly. Louis wanted to take that part initially, but Harry was adamant that it must be him who gets to have the image of the thirsty soil having life breathed into it on his body, claims it’s only fitting and if they are doing a couple tattoo, they better do it right. Louis grips his other arm and scans his face questioning, giving a way out.

It will hurt and also it will be permanent, so is Harry sure that he wants to do this, because he doesn’t have to? Louis will walk around with that rain and no purpose for as long as he needs to, it doesn’t really matter when compared to Harry thinking that he has to do anything.

But there is no stopping him now, apparently. He frowns at Louis and tugs him closer and breathes him in and just lets himself be held through the pain, not taking his eyes away from the needle that etches the cracks in the ground and a few droplets of rain in his skin and then, finally, the cloud of evaporated water to the side, looking how a whisper would if you could draw it.

“I call it petrichor.”, he woman inking Harry says with a thick accent.  
“The scent of rain on dry earth.”, she adds and Harry smiles at her, looking drunk on the feeling of how much this fits. It does. Louis doesn’t really have to check it out to know that it does.

When it’s over, the woman smiles at them, holding their bandaged hands intertwined between them, and nods them through the door, because it’s going to be a new day soon and she feels like going home to her husband. Louis thanks her once again and takes Harry outside.

The rain has stopped and it’s just fresh and smells like sunrise, which soon appears over the rooftops of Paris as they stumble through. It is very adequate, sobered up but warm in the chill of the morning, to be walking through Paris of all places. Louis lifts his head up from Harry’s shoulder and puckers his lips for a kiss. Harry smiles, bends down and kisses him gently, their bandaged forearms brushing against each other so that is hurts for a bit, just perfectly so and then they both step into a puddle, not seeing where they were going.

In retrospect, when they are in their room half an hour later, skin cold from the rainy morning and fingers stroking everywhere, kissing in crisp white sheets and Harry presses his bandaged arm right against Louis’ chest, where his heart is, as he comes undone beneath Louis’ thrusts, that puddle didn’t matter at all.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am unreasonably late with this. But it is played out in my head and is to be done in a chapter or two. Promised myself I will not be developing new stuff until I do this. And I have exciting new stuff, so I might do this next one a bit faster :-D  
> As always, let me know what you think!

First six days of married life go a little bit like this:  
Niall can’t move the first morning and Zayn is exceptionally smug about it, walking around their hotel room like he has the world’s best dick attached to him (he does, Niall can confirm). Still. They don’t go out until the evening, and only then to eat. 

First romantic date that his husband takes him on is to a doner place. In Paris. If Niall wasn’t very easy to please, he would be very offended. But alas, when it comes to food, Niall is exceptionally happy to simply be fed.   
Thing is, he is supposed to be on his honeymoon, all couple-y and adorable, so why do Harry and Louis snogging in the same bloody doner place look more loved up is beyond him. Their upper arms are bandaged and Louis has hickeys on his neck, Harry’s still dolled up in his washed-out-rock-star look. They brag about this couple tattoo they have. 

In all honesty, Niall and Zayn, the actual married couple, spend about half an hour staring at their friends in bewilderment. He allows himself to think that it is not very healthy, this absolute focus Harry and Louis have for each other. Niall has seen enough science fiction movies to know that when you send that much energy in one direction, it will undoubtedly blow shit up. 

On the second day, Niall arranges for midnight tickets for an art show Zayn has been moaning about. He is a good husband. Zayn acknowledges that and rewards him. Best. Gratitude. Blowjob. Ever. Twice (Zayn is still grateful in the morning). 

On the third day, he gets to sob in gratitude right back. There is an actual house in the suburbs of London that Zayn bought for them. Alright, it needs a bit of work done. Like a year or so. Which Niall is perfectly happy with, because he only sees the photos Zayn took to show him and it is enough to amaze him. The love of his life is planning ahead for THEM. Together, as a family, possibly with children sometime down the road. He thanks Zayn the best way he knows how and when he abandons his dazed husband (husband) in bed, on the fourth day of his married life, Harry gets to listen to him gush about the house. 

Which is where it gets complicated. 

“You know, this can be fixed up faster with more money. And I know how to get more.”, Harry says and it is only because Niall and the entire world is hard-wired to perceive Harry as a cupcake that he misses the undertone of that.   
“Oh, I think we know how to get money too, don’t you worry Haz.”, he shrugs and looks back down on the photos.   
“No. Louis said that Zayn is thinking of stopping with the whole robbing thing.”, Harry’s voice is even firmer this time and that makes Niall raise his head up.   
“What?”  
“He told me Zayn wants to stop, especially after the last time, says it is too dangerous?”, Harry wavers a bit there and Niall waves his head.   
“Of course. Zayn’s got it in his head that we need to stop, and he said we will while he was proposing, time to be grown up and all. But mate, it’s us. No grown up hair on our bodies. No way we are stopping, no matter what he says now, he will figure it out, we need the money.”, he says and while Harry doesn’t seem surprised, he does look like Niall just played his cards right how Harry wanted them. Looking right and left like he is in a bloody spy movie, he leans in and whispers:   
“But I have a way to get you the money. Lots of it. And it would be enough. Just once. With decreased risk.”  
Niall is very, very confused, blinks at Harry a few times and opens his mouth in wonder.   
“Niall, I would help you and Zayn rob my father.”

His tone is grave and absolutely serious and Niall panics.   
“You are bloody joking mate, right?!”

But screaming doesn’t get him anywhere, because Harry flinches back like he has been slapped and Niall worries for a second that Louis is going to show up to this café out of nowhere and bash his head in for making Harry react like that. He tries it slower this time, like talking to a child.   
“Harry, you can’t be serious. Really mate, tell me you are joking.”, he says under his breath and Harry waves his head no. 

“Are you a fucking idiot? That would put you in danger most of everyone! And Louis will never agree to let you participate in a crime, are you mental?”, he feels his tone rising again and he doesn’t like it, chill and calm is his safe place, this feels oddly wrong.   
“I never said Louis would have to know.”, Harry lifts his eyes up to stare at him and that is where Niall loses it. 

“I did not just hear you try to rope me in deceiving my best friend. The very best friend you are tits over arse in love with!”, he stomps his actual foot beneath the table where they sit, but reason seems to have no influence on Harry.   
“I am proposing this because it is the easiest way to get out. Permanently.”, Harry sounds sure, determined, no wavy edges of suspicion that Niall came to associate with his behavior.   
He waves his head and looks down on the table, angry and powerless.   
“You are not that stupid mate. This would fuck everything up. No risking in the next few months, laying low, living married life out, that is what I am supposed to do. Quiet business, something we are completely comfortable with, why would you even think that it is smart to go after something that big? We can be traced back to you Harry, know that, your father is not an idiot, come on!”, he tries his best, but Harry is still leaning over the table toward him.   
“Niall. Just… Listen to me. Promise me?”, Harry blinks the damn Bambi eyes at him and Niall is waving his hand for him to go on before he is even aware of what’s going on. 

“I will help you. Information, cameras disabled, a detailed plan, in and out, I am sure you can do that.”, he pauses and Niall continues staring at him.   
“And? What happens when your father figures out that he has been robbed because of an obvious inside leak and then comes after you? And, by extension, Louis and Zayn and me?”, he waves his hands like a maniac and hopes to hell Harry finally lets it go. 

Tough luck.

“He won’t .”  
“Harry, come on, he sent people after you to follow you…”, Niall tries, but Harry jumps in.   
“He won’t, because he can be discredited. Publicly.”, Harry’s tone is completely cold and Niall feels like he woke up in an alternate reality, where the softest guy on Earth is flirting with the devil himself, like he isn’t even a bit worried it could burn him. 

“What information?”   
“Fraud. Money laundry. Tax evasion. That is in the papers. And then, a tape of him abusing a minor under his custody.”, the words seep out like poker cards of a flash royal. Invincible. 

“You are planning to blackmail your father?”, Niall is amazed. Still convinced it is the worst idea ever, but still, pretty amazing.   
“No. I will expose him. Everything out in the open, nobody will pay any attention to his accusations. And the money will be ours. Clean slate.”

“You are going public?! With being abused?”, he nearly shouts in surprise.   
“Yes!”, Harry shouts back and slams his hands down on the dingy table, making curious French people turn to them. Niall has his mouth agape and just stares, at the determination set in his eyes and jaw and now clenched fists. Horribly, he gets a creeping feeling that this is something he is getting asked to possibly join, but in no matter something that he can prevent. 

“Look. There is no fresh start for me without recognizing it, facing it, getting it out there. NO way to make him leave my life forever. And also, no other way to render him powerless. If he goes down, he has to go down completely Niall. I have a mother and a sister to protect here, besides you guys.”, he fidgets and looks at his hands, finally wavering into a bit of his former insecurity. 

Niall stares out the window and shrugs at it. 

“A lot of thought put into this, I see. But there is no guarantee that it will work.”, he says after a while.   
“Well, I need his money to keep living normally. And you need the money too. Worth the risk, if you ask me. And then, exposing him is the only way to cover our tracks and start fresh at the same time. If you can come up with something better…”, he trails off and Niall knows that this is his chance to bring Harry’s logic down. But the thing is, he can’t point out any other glaring holes in it. But Zayn is half of his brain for a reason. 

“You, or we, need to talk to Zayn to have this start making any sense. In whatever direction.”, he says and Harry smirks at him like he knew that was coming.   
“Oi! Don’t give me the attitude, I am a married man now, honesty and for better or worse and all that!”, he laughs and it breaks the tension a bit, just enough for questions to pile up in Niall’s head.   
“Why me? Why are you ambushing me with this idea?”, he blurts out and Harry’s eyes glisten with mirth.   
“Really? As if Zayn wouldn’t run off to tell Louis before I even finished the sentence?”, he challenges and Niall’s face falls a bit, even though it is a good observation.   
“You think I will lie to Louis?”  
“No. I mean, you would hear me out, at least.”, Harry says and shrugs, biting his lip nervously. 

“Harry. Look at me.”  
He does and Niall finally sees the only out he needed, from the beginning.   
“I can tell you right now that Zayn will never accept doing anything without Louis knowing. And neither will I for that matter.”, he says and Harry’s eyes widen.   
“But you haven’t been telling him about the details before…”, Harry’s voice is back to the trembly, scared, old Harry and Niall is equal parts sad and relieved.   
“He doesn’t have to know the details when it doesn’t concern him directly. This does. Because he is in the middle of it either way. And also because he would take our heads if it got you into trouble. So no, if you want a shot at this, you will have to convince Louis first.”

Niall knows he finally struck a point in it the moment Harry lowers his head down to his hands, shook up and restless.   
“He is going to scream at me for days as soon as I mention it.”, he says with a sigh.   
“Well, you are the one dating Louis Tomlinson mate, what else did you expect?” 

***  
Niall and Zayn get a break for a day, Louis and Harry gone to put up a locket with their names on Pont des Arts. Zayn doesn’t have a clue, because Niall obviously doesn’t think it his job to say it, so he keeps quiet and snuggled up with his husband on their balcony. A sunny day in Paris, finally, and if he completely forgets about Harry and Louis and the whole discussion, it’s only because Zayn wants to use his expensive paint and delicate brushes on him and that always ends up in marathon sex in their case. 

He registers Harry and Louis in front of their hotel briefly while he waits for Zayn to be done with a cigarette on the balcony, their laughter echoing down the street. Zayn turns to look at him, illuminated by the setting sun as an ethereal creature of supernatural beauty and cracks a joke about hoping that the damn love bridge is still standing after these two have come across it. Niall has words on the tip of his tongue, but then Zayn runs in and jumps over him on the bed and Niall encounters incoherency. 

It is hours past midnight when Niall is woken up from comfortable, fucked-out, dreamless sleep. It takes him a minute to realize that the noise is someone in the hotel hallway, stumbling their life away and giggling like maniacs, either too drunk to walk or trying to have hallway sex while searching for their room. 

Then it registers in his brain that the only two people on their floor are Harry and Louis and that, yes, knowing them, they are about to fuck in the hallway. Sighing, he snuggles closer into the nape of Zayn’s neck and hears a responding sigh follow. 

“Those two will be the death of us all.”, Zayn mumbles and something lights up in Niall’s head. Fuck it. Zayn has to know, deserves to know. And Niall, really, honestly can’t stand the weight of what he knows in the back of his mind, like an anvil waiting to drop, but at a pace that Harry commands. 

“Babe?”, he sets his tone a bit too serious, Zayn turning towards him, awake in a second.   
“What?”  
“I need to tell you about something Harry told me.” 

***  
That night, Zayn and Niall worry. Neither of them is honestly bothered that it is their honeymoon, very much preoccupied in the flow of this thing that keeps going on and on and in which they are both stuck. Zayn says that he knows it is dangerous, but it is also Harry’s decision. Or Louis’, to be simple about it, because Louis has to know and only he can stop it all. They don’t talk about the money, the house or the robbing itself, that is what they both know would work. But Harry’s plans further down the road – not so much.

Just before morning, they decide to go back to sleep, wrapped up in each other but clinging to individual thoughts. Honestly, Niall keeps quiet about how he wishes they would be able to do it. Maybe it is a child in him, wanting to outplay the bullies, like in elementary school. Or maybe it is his protective instinct to finally act with something big and definite, chase away the dangers and protect his family. His entire family. Which is why he knows that there is no safety plan, if Harry goes down because of this, they would all follow. Louis certainly the first, hot on his heels, but all of them regardless. 

It is the following morning, when he is just waking up, giggling at Zayn snoring into his ear, that it all plays out. 

Louis storms into the room, slams the door after himself and waits for both of them to snap their heads up and look at his accusing finger pointing directly between Niall and Zayn.   
“Both of you! Why didn’t you come and tell me as soon as that idiot opened his mouth with this shit of an idea?!”

Zayn and Niall share a look and that is all Louis needs to know that he isn’t accusing anyone outside reason. 

“What the fuck?!”, he screams at a higher frequency now and Zayn cringes away from it.   
“Mate, calm down…”, Niall tries, but Louis is, as expected, having none of it. 

“You want me to calm down?! He comes to you with this stupid plan and you wait for him to tell me like a fucking blushing schoolgirl, never once even thinking about alerting me about the fucking disaster storming up in his head? Calm down Niall, honestly?!” 

Louis is stomping his foot, which doesn’t happen often and never without good reason, so Niall leans forward in bed to rub at his temples. 

“You need to shut up if you don’t want me to kick you out of my bloody honeymoon suite asshole!”, he shouts in his hands and that is where Louis stops his rampage and crosses his arms. Like a furious, yet temporarily silenced Tinker Bell would, raising his eyebrow to point out that he still wants answers. 

“Right. Thank you Louis.”, Zayn says and leans forward too, their sheets slipping to their waists. But Louis cares not that a newly married couple is naked in the bed in front of him.   
“We considered telling you, honestly we did, but it is his idea. And his choice to tell us, so it should be his choice to tell you too. Even though Niall did condition him to do so, but still.”, Zayn says and Niall slaps his naked back in warning too late for the words to come out. 

“Condition him?! Oh, this is just wonderful! So he wasn’t even planning to tell me?!”, Louis swings right back into his tantrum and Niall waves his hands in a desperate attempt to stop it. Surprisingly, Louis does. And turns around to stare at them, eyebrows scrunched up and desperation in his eyes. 

“He knew you would react like this, so yes, he was considering not telling you. And you can pick that bone with him thank you very much.”, Niall says. 

Louis drops his arms to his sides and slumps, suddenly a picture of confusion and helplessness, looking a lot less like the furious harpy he was at his entrance, but more like a guy asking for help. Which, well, years of mind-reading skills between the three of them indicate that he couldn’t have come to a better pair. 

“He told me, he told me just a few minutes ago and I just… How fucking else should I react?”, he looks up and at them like they will know. 

“I know why are you reacting like this mate. Come sit.”, Niall pats the bed in front of his legs and Louis hurries towards them like a child seeking protection. Snuggles up to Niall’s chest and exhales with weight on his lungs.   
“Louis.”, Zayn says and the tone lifts Louis’ head up like magic.

“I know you are worried that plan might make everything worse, especially for Harry himself, but besides that. Do you truly think it is a bad plan?”, he asks and Louis’ eyelids tremble over his eyes even without his conscious effort.   
“I… “, he starts, exhales, inhales, starts again. 

“No, not a bad plan. But still.”, he says stubbornly, to his lap.   
“But still what Louis?”, Niall leans towards him. 

“It might work, even should work. But I promised him that I will get him away from that life, not put him back into it!”, he exclaims and Niall and Zayn exchange another look. 

“Mate, I know that you don’t like all aspects of it, but can you really control what happens to Harry? What he chooses to do with his life?”, Niall says and Louis looks at him, finally. 

“I can control it now. I can. If I say no to the plan, you two won’t do it and then it all falls through, right?”, he questions and both Niall and Zayn nod in a heartbeat.   
“Yes, we all know that. But just because you can control it, should you? It is Harry’s life. His way to get out of it and into the one he wants. He doesn’t need a control figure in that new life Louis, you know that.”, Zayn tries this time, and Louis looks away like it burns him to face it. 

“It’s not just his life if we are all to risk for it, is it?”, he says and Niall’s mouth lifts up at the corner. 

“It is still his life. If he thinks it is a way out, he might try to do it even without us.”, he feels sad saying it, but it is so. That determined look Harry had in the café, grown-up and serious and almost steely with cold, it said volumes of what he is ready to do. Niall doesn’t know him perfectly. None of them do. Exactly because of that he thinks it is entirely likely that they were asked as people with the most probable chance of success, not as an only alternative. 

“You think he might go behind my back?”, Louis panics and fidgets on the bed. 

“No, I just think he might find other people with the same… asset of skills to help him do this anyway. And then he will be in double danger.”, he shrugs and Louis looks up at the ceiling like it holds the answers to his troubles. It doesn’t, because next minute he is up, pacing up and down the room. 

“What the hell do I do then?”, he asks himself. 

“You decide if you want to go ahead with the plan. If yes, we are in too. And we save everyone at the end of the day. Hopefully.”, Zayn answers him. 

Louis turns towards them, looks through the window and shakes his head.

“And if no?”, he asks.   
“You won’t say no.”, Niall finishes for him and that is it. 

***  
Turns out, Louis locked Harry up in their room before storming out, acting on instinct of stopping him trying to run away and get himself into trouble. 

When Niall and Zayn finally get a chance to get dressed and venture out of the room, Harry is in the hallway, visibly pissed off besides an equally pissed off Louis. 

It is a first, seeing Harry this angry and they both agree it balances Louis’ loud, explosive anger, because Harry looks as stable and dangerous as a tsunami. 

“You don’t get to lock me up like I am child Louis, no matter what, you hear me?”, he isn’t screaming, but there is an undertone of something that is never to be messed with in his voice.   
“I was afraid you will run away and get yourself into shit!”, Louis huffs in his defense and that sets Harry off.   
“I know! So you locked me up, like a toddler, after I specifically told you to stay calm and talk about what I just said to you! But no, you run away and lock me up so I can’t follow and disrespect what I asked from you this very morning, to hear me out, just hear me out!”

Now he was shouting. Louis looked like a deer caught in headlights. Zayn was a bit amused, Niall could totally tell. 

“I had a right to storm out, you said that you got them to cooperate with this insanity, I had to go, what were you…”, Louis defends, with much less force.   
“I was expecting you to respect what you promised to me! Is this how a relationship works with you? I tell you something and you treat me like a misbehaved teenager?!”, Harry screams out and Niall knows that he is freaking out for a reason, but Louis’ panicked face still makes him feel sorry for him. 

The thing is, Louis operates either on mother-hen-mode or asshole-mode when he is panicking. And considering that Harry doesn’t really give off a vibe of someone in need of comfort right now, he bets it will be the second one. He moves to stop them arguing further, but Louis’ asshole circuit is a bit faster. 

“I wouldn’t treat you like a teenager if you weren’t coming up with ideas even teenagers would be ashamed of.”, he deadpans and Harry’s hands clench against his sides at the same time Louis’ own eyes widen at his own idiocy. Harry throws a hurt glare in his direction and stomps into the room behind them, locking the door from the inside. 

Louis covers his mouth with a hand and finally turns to acknowledge Niall and Zayn. He waves his other hand like he just burned himself and squeals behind his fingers. 

“You are a moron mate.”, Niall explains, like that will help anything. Whatever. He just felt like he needs to say it, being protective of Harry and all that. Zayn can take the role of reasoning with Louis, always been better at that either way.   
“Not dating a fragile little boy Louis. He probably never was just a fragile little boy. You need to get your head out of your ass and go grovel and apologize, in that order.”, Zayn explains and well, not even he was gentle. Again, whatever. Niall knows Louis is stressed, but there is no reason to be a bitch to the very person you are fretting about. 

“I didn’t mean it like that. He just… It scares me what he comes up with and here he is screaming at me for something I shouldn’t have done, but I did even that just out of fear.”  
His words are choppy and voice trembling. Niall feels an oncoming headache.   
“Afraid of losing him?”  
He doesn’t really have to ask, but Louis nods anyway. 

“Well, besides his abusive father and fucked up life situation, you could also lose him if you smother him with lot of worry and a lack of faith too.”, Zayn adds and Niall is thankful they share a brain sometimes.   
“I am an idiot.”, Louis acknowledges. 

“Yes, you are. Go, talk, apologize, be disgustingly fluffy and all that.”, Zayn waves at him and Louis balls his fists in determination. Approaches the door like a scared child and knocks.   
Niall grabs Zayn’s hand pulls him away. 

Outside. Paris. Honeymoon. No emotionally unstable couples that are a mess of their own.   
“Curly, baby, open the door, please. I am sorry sweetheart.”, Louis begs and Zayn pretends to gag and that is all Niall hears of their two idiotic, unwillingly adopted children for the rest of the day. 

***  
Three days later, when they are about to go back to England, Louis sits them down and holds Harry’s hand through the hardest thing he will say in a while. 

“I approve of the plan. But, there are a few rules of my own.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been unusually fast for me, but Harry and Louis just won't leave me alone!  
> Only one chapter and an epilogue left!

It doesn't happen in a heartbeat. Even though he accepted doing it, Louis takes care that „the plan“ does go accordingly to, well... the plan.   
He sets conditions in front of Harry (after apologizing for being a dick when he should have really tried harder to understand). Not wanting to make Harry feel like he is trying to sabotage it all, he truly tries to talk it out like an adult. Might be a first conscious effort of that kind he does in his life, but, who would know – it works.

Condition number one is that Harry doesn't go to his father's house at all. Harry fights against it, saying that he has to, that they will never make this believable if he doesn't and besides, how is he supposed to get the cameras shut off and the documents that he needs? And the security camera video that actually shows the beating on that last day, when his father was too pissed off to think about being discrete, which he usually was, even in his own house. But then, the very choking that left finger-shaped bruises on Harry's neck happened right at the front door, even before he stepped foot into the house, in the perfect view of the front camera. Harry knows, remembers the tiny red light that kept blinking at him as his world got almost totally black. Louis asks him if he is even sure that the video will be there, but Harry could bet his life that it will, knowing the arrogant behaviour of his father around what he claims as his.

Whatever Harry says though, Louis puts his foot down and absolutely refuses to even consider it. He knows that Harry will get beaten like never previously in his life if he even comes close to his father, having run away and slipped from control as he has. And Harry knows this too, Louis can see it as clear as day, and still he is ready to risk it. Louis knows it means that he puts all his hopes into this working, but still. No bruises, no torture, no fear. He promised Harry and he is keeping his promise, even if he has to work against him to do it.

Finally, Harry yields on the first condition. Brilliantly, he thinks of just the solution and tells it the boys as they are leaving Paris. It includes a fifth person and puts her in danger too, but Harry has no choice. So he phones Lou up and asks her to come to Louis' bookstore as soon as she can.

She stares at Harry like he grew another head as he sits her down and tells her what he needs her to do. There is no hesitation in accepting it, but she is honestly surprised that Harry would even think of something like this. With her on board, the little pieces of the puzzle start falling into place.

Next on, they are to lay low and not use the money at least for a year afterwards. Harry agrees with this easily, understanding why it is necessary and claiming he will find a job to help out in the meantime. Niall and Zayn are not bothered at all, already predicted it will have to be like this. It's not like they don't have the money currently, they can survive just fine for a year.

But that actually requires not having the money they steal for a while and that is where Liam comes in. He is far away but close enough and can be trusted (demands to be trusted, actually). Louis had his disagreements with him before, granted, but he was always on their side just because he chose to. Not being forced into loyalty but providing it anyway, he nods and smiles a sad smile at Louis when he explains and that is all there is.

And lastly, Louis asks Harry to get a lawyer. Immediately, even before the police or whoever his father sends after him start snooping around. He is aware that Harry's father doesn't have connections in the criminal circles of London that could actually stalk them, or he wouldn't send Jackson to monitor his son, but still. Protection and precaution never hurt. With a lawyer, they will be a firmer front when the case reaches the police and, finally, the court.

Harry solves this particular problem in a heartbeat. Louis mentions it in Paris and the second day in London a man enters the bookstore, suit-up-pristine and business-y, puts his card in front of Louis and asks to see Harry. Louis' jaw drops in panic that his father found them, found Harry, even though he was insanely careful to not expose him at all, returning home in the middle of the night and not allowing him to wander out on his own at all. But Harry comes running out from behind the shelves and hugs the man like they are long lost friends and that is when it gets really weird. Turns out Jeff is a hot-shot lawyer that used to date Harry's sister back in the day, long time ago, when Harry was still living in Cheshire. He sought Harry out as soon as he heard he moved to London, but Harry was always careful with contact, too afraid of what father would say. Jeff doesn't seem surprised at all when Harry tell him what he needs him for. Just sad, worried, very, exceptionally human and understanding for a lawyer shark, so Louis forgives him for being one. Jeff chuckles when he says so and shakes his head.

„I got into this to help people. And I do. The only conceited thing about me is that I am aware what I am fighting for is working, be sure of that.“

Louis doubts that, visibly assured that the man has a bit of an egotistical streak, but smiles back anyway. Later, Harry will joke that it takes one to know one when it comes to self-assured men and that, apparently, both him and his sister have a bit of a type. 

Jeff is about to leave when he seems to remember something and turns back.

„You know, your mother and sister worry about you constantly. There is no way you could hide this from them, you know that, right? Maybe you need to come clean with them before they see it on the news?“, he adds.

Harry shrugs and looks at him:“You think it will get that far?“

Jeff gives him a predatory smirk that would scare anyone with half a brain and combines it with a dangerous twinkle in his eye. Louis completely realizes how lucky they are they have him on their side, old-friend-still-hung-up-on-Harry's-sister or not.

„Oh, your father will be demolished in all the ways I can get him. Publicly especially. Not giving him a chance to pay someone off and get away with this, you get me?“

Harry stares at him with that steely look in his eyes and nods.

***

Later that same night, when Niall and Zayn have possessed the couch in the living room of Louis' apartment with their disgusting honeymoon-ing, Louis sits on their bed and waits for Harry to finish showering.

It is a bit anticlimactic, how he fell in love with one person and then an entire universe of possibilities blossomed out from him, like Harry was an enigma just waiting to be unlocked. He isn't scared, maybe surprised sometimes, but in a way people who lost each other a lifetime ago react when they find each other and then rediscover why they searched for each other all along. He isn't a corny, romantic type of guy. Usually. But Harry is not usual in any sense of the word.

Louis sits and waits for him and when he is in the doorway, strands of hair dripping with water down his face and miles of skin stretching to the floor, he forgets what he was thinking about.

Harry is a man. A wonderful, strong, powerful man, a superhero risen from the ashes of his flaming insecurities. And if Louis would confess to it, murmuring it into the nape of Harry's neck while he hopes the print of his lips remains there, Harry would laugh, open, free, complete and probably say something fluffy about how he has Louis to thank for that. Louis knows that, because he tried that talk a few times already. Blame him for not being able to wrap his head around Harry not realizing that all of this is him, his doing, his fight, his burden and his medal and even while Louis strains to make it easier, he never really feels he is succeeding enough.

„You are thinking too much again.“, Harry smacks him over the shoulder with his wet towel and jumps on the bed, giggling when Louis follows him to snuggle close. Inside Harry's skin, if he could.

He wants to talk about serious things though.

„Harry.“, he says and he gets the same look he has been getting for the past seven days, since they have been hatching this plan. Together, in the dark, staring at each other while figuring it out. Louis feels like they are channelling Bonnie and Clyde. Except they have all the possible right to fight and win against these particular demons.

„You want to go over the plan again, don't you?“, Harry asks and gets in position, propped up against two pillows and pulls Louis in, having him lie in his chest.

„You know we have to.“, Louis frowns against his chest.

„And you know that it will not make the waiting easier.“, Harry retorts.

„And you too know that we can't rush it if it is to succeed.“, he fights back and well... It's not that they argue. It's more of a conversation on topics they don't completely agree on. Natural. But he is level-headed, as much as Louis Tomlinson can be, reasonable and adult about this, not likely to start his offensive-defensive strategy that would just make wounds where he is trying to heal them both.

„Yes.“, Harry agrees and Louis smiles up at him.

„Tell me.“, he whispers and closes his eyes, chin propped up on Harry's chest. He needs to hear the logic of it, just so he could convince himself that it is smart what they are doing.

Harry breathes in, out and chuckles a bit before starting talking, in the order they agreed on, slowly combing through Louis' hair in the process.

„Lou takes the camera to the house and films everything, Zayn and Niall make a plan according to the video. She finds out if the footage from the security cameras of that night when he beat me up is still there. You and I keep low and not appear anywhere until a day before the action, when we show up in the club where Jackson hangs out. He follows us home, figures out where I was hiding, lets my father know. But before he can come get me, Lou shuts off the security cameras and runs for it. That night, Zayn and Niall break in and steal the money, all the documents from his safe and the videos from the security cameras. They take the money to Liam, he keeps it hidden. Father will report a robbery and accuse me as soon as he finds out, probably send the police right here to arrest me. We call Jeff then, who comes out with the documents and the video against father, defends me against the charges because there is no proof and files a complaint for the abuse and everything else right at that time. You take care that is all gets published with the contacts Jeff provided you with at the same time. Father gets trialed, goes to prison, we are free and everyone believes that the accusations for the robbery are false because he himself hid the money somewhere, because I threatened to expose him if he doesn't let me go. A year later, we can start using the money, Niall and Zayn get their house and you and I live happily ever after.“

It's a bit mechanical, the way he recites it, like a student that learned it all by heart, but Louis is getting used to the monotone tone Harry tells it in. They do this every night, picking both of their brains for details they might have missed, all the options where it could go wrong. Frankly, everywhere. But they are still trying it.

„Good.“, he says, opens his eyes and stares at Harry. There is no mirth in his eyes anymore, but the grave, steely look that Louis came to associate with Harry hell bent on doing something.

„It will work.“, Harry says. At least for now, Louis hears that he believes it. Maybe that is enough. For now.

They keep quiet for a bit, too engrossed in their own thoughts, before Louis just can't take it anymore.

„And what Jeff said? About your mum and sister?“, he is almost afraid that Harry will disintegrate under the question, as touchy about his family as he has been.

And he really does get that haunted, scared look in his eyes, like from the beginning.

„I have to tell them. Before. Or it will destroy both of them afterwards.“, and this he admits like he is also making peace with it.

Louis nods and squeezes his hand in support.

Harry is silent for a while, staring at the ceiling and then:

„You will go with me?“, he asks and doesn't look back down at Louis.

He would. He will. He wants to. But he is also scared, because there is so much potential to hurt Harry there, tear him to pieces before it patches him back.

„Of course, if you want me to.“, he says, his tone level and calm.

Harry looks down this time and lifts the corner of his lips up.

„Mum will adore you. And Gemma too.“, he strokes his hand down Louis' face and Louis turns his lips into it to kiss his palm.   
„Well, I will try to be at my best behaviour.“, he wiggles his eyebrows and smiles back.

If he tries hard enough, he can pretend that the trip to Cheshire is going to be just about him meeting the family of his boyfriend and not about watching Harry admit to his own mother that he has been abused by the man she made him with. But he doesn't get to be afraid of that. Or, at least, he doesn't get to show it, because Harry does plenty of that for both of them.

***

Louis drives them to Cheshire, in an old, ratty mess of a car he borrowed from Josh. It looks like something an American teenager would drive down a dusty, wavering road to college. Harry claims that, while Louis tries to laugh at him with all honesty, without finding him too adorable. He fails.

Trying to maintain a light mood is difficult though, because Harry tends to stare away through the window and starts biting his lip in a way that makes it clear that he has his mother's words on his mind.

When he phoned to tell her he will be visiting, the woman lost it and started crying. It has been difficult to calm her down, but Harry did a fairly good job, his voice stoic while he was apologizing for not calling and promising that he really is coming to see her this time, only cracking when she mentioned that she called his father to check up on him and that he said Harry is fine.

Fine. Louis wanted to break his own skin and let the anger crawl out when he heard it, leaning over Harry's back and listening in the conversation.

„A...about that mum. There is something I need to tell you?“, he said and she is a mother, so she heard all the shades of mortified in that.

„Harry, honey, just come home, alright? We will talk about it, just come home sweetie, ok?“

She was panicking and it took a while to calm her down again. Harry tried, succeeded a bit maybe. Then he said he is not coming home alone this time and Louis squeezed his hand as Harry's mum gasped.

„You are bringing him home? The boy you have been talking about?“

 Louis was so ready for this. Not really, but still.

When they are about to arrive in Holmes Chapel, Harry asks him to park beside a creek and a meadow right on the outskirts of what Harry used to call home. He exits the car and breathes in, like he is equally nostalgic and terrified of the air itself here. Louis waits it out, follows him silently as he walks over grass and ends up on a tiny bridge over the creek, adorably positioned between trees on either side. Harry leans over the wooden fence and looks towards the village.

„I used to come here all the time a few years ago. My favourite place, it was. Mum always knew where to find me.“

„It's pretty.“, Louis says and pushes his arms beneath Harry's to hug him.

They stand in silence for a while, breathing it all in. Louis is ready to ask if Harry is sure that he wants to do this, now, but Harry interrupts him.

„You would never even look at me back then.“, he says and smiles down at where Louis intertwined their fingers.   
„What are you on about Curly?“

Harry turns, not breaking Louis embrace and cocks his head.

„Me back then. I was a bit of a geek, spaced out in books, glasses and generally an absolute dork.“, he explains. Truly, Louis is offended.

„What the hell do you think I looked like in my teenage years?!“

Harry rises his eyebrow and mimic Louis' smirk perfectly.

„An unruly mess of chubbiness and too much attitude, I was. You would be too smart to even consider my idiotic ass back then Mr. Geek.“, he says and Harry is laughing too much to answer.

„I am serious. I would pine after you and probably get out of my way to annoy you, just to get you to notice.“, Louis keeps defending.

Harry hugs him and leans his head over Louis', which, when did he shoot into the sky with his long legs and arms and everything?

„So, you're telling me that if you and I went to the same high school, you wouldn't ignore me, even being the punk you were?“

Louis hears an underlying question beneath it, a whisper of :“You wouldn't be one of those guys that bullied me?“, and if there is honestly anything he can say about his younger, stupid, messy self, the Louis that went out of his way to annoy people, because he had yet to convince them to love him as he was, that thing is that he didn't harm people if they didn't harm him first. But, more importantly, he can't imagine a universe in which he doesn't need Harry to be happy as much as he needs to breathe air, so no, he would definitely not be a bully.

„If you and I went to the same high school, you would have me pulling your proverbial pigtails honey. And growling at anyone else that would come close to you.“, he looks at Harry in the eyes and doesn't try to explain it in more words. Harry keeps quiet, understands, shrugs and looks away.

„Are you ready?“, Louis asks him, finally and that is how they get back to the car and into Holmes Chapel.

***

The woman that opens the door of a small, white house and throws herself onto Harry is a whirl of long, black hair, wide smiles and teary eyes, big, honest pools of emotion, not unlike Harry's. He looks nothing like his father, but he is a spitting image of his mum. And, apparently, sister, who smiles the same smile and throws Louis only a careless look as she spots Harry snuggled into his mother's embrace.

He feels like an observer in a moment nobody should ever intrude on. The way his mother clings to him, his sister disentangles herself and then playfully smacks him over the head like he left home half an hour ago and managed to worry them senseless in the meantime, the way Harry's shoulders shake with gasps that have not quite yet transformed into tears, all of it breaks Louis' heart.

Eventually, Harry turns around to him and stands up straighter, having hunched over to hug his mum.   
„Mum, Gemma, this is Louis.“, he says and Louis is met with two pairs of very similar, questioning eyes. Sliding his hands down his body and smiling a tentative smile, Louis tries his best gentleman skills.

„Nice to meet you ma’am.“, he extends his hand towards Anne and the woman shakes it with a hint of a smile. She isn't past judging him up, he knows, but at least he got inside the house.

Harry gets nervous as soon as his mother asks about how has he been and why hasn't he called in a month or so. Louis uses the opportunity of her having turned her back on them to check on the tea to slide his arm over to Harry's and squeeze. Gemma zeroes in on the movement, looks up at Louis, but Harry must look like Louis is doing something right, because she visibly relaxes.

And so on. They chat and Anne asks about where they met (so Harry tenses up again), but Louis pulls him closer again. Honestly trying to protect him, he doesn't really pay attention to numerous weird looks he keeps receiving both from Anne and Gemma and Harry keeps losing it, bit by bit anyway. He doesn't really see the point in trying to protect him in front of people who love him and worry about him anyway, but he can't force Harry into actually talking about the elephant in the room.

„Harry, what is going on?“, Anne cuts through her nervousness and that is where it all snaps. Harry looks up, down, to the side and fidgets like he is on a witness stand for the trial already. Louis leans towards him and combs his fingers through his hair, tries to let him know he has nothing to be scared of, they are solving this, they will do it, no matter what they will succeed.

„Would you stop cuddling him and let him speak?!“, Gemma loses it at him and Louis flinches back a bit, sliding his hand away from Harry's curls, but he stops him.

„No! I need you here. Please, Louis, please...“, Harry groans out and Louis nods, comes closer still and disregards that Gemma is glaring daggers at him already.

„Harry.“, his mother says again.

„It's about father mum. I don't live with him anymore.“, Harry says and both his mother and sister stare at him in shock.   
„Where have you been then?“ Gemma leans towards him, almost violently trying not to snap from tension.

„With Louis.“, Harry shrugs and both pairs of eyes turn on him.

Anne's bottom lip is trembling a bit, that way it tends to do when someone sees disaster coming and knows they will have to endure it standing.

„Why?“, she asks, in a tone that already foreshadows that, like a mother does, she has imagined the worst possible reason. And she is just about to have it come true in front of her eyes.

„Because father has been beating me up for years.“, Harry says, can't look at neither of them in the eye and thus misses the amount of horror and despair on their faces and Gemma screeches and Anne starts sobbing.

Louis will remember very little of Harry's explanation in later years. He knows Harry kept gripping his hand like it is a piece of him, that his voice kept stammering through everything in the same tragic, resigned tone it adopted when he was explaining this to Louis a few months ago, knows that Gemma sat down on the kitchen floor like a kicked puppet and lowered her head on her knees so she could breathe through what she was hearing. He will forever remember the way Anne kept looking at Harry, not wavering for a bit, like she is terrified that something will harm him again if she blinks. How she gripped the table in front of her and didn't let it go, kept standing and let the tears fall silently in that stoic, steely, heroic way mothers adopt when something inhuman is required of them, because her child needed her to. Because her child needed her to listen and understand and he couldn't be stopped now.   
Louis knows what Harry was saying, but doesn't process how he put it into words, and he will be thankful to his brain for that for the rest of his life. There are some words that are just not meant to be spoken, and especially not in the way Harry was doing it, so having to listen to it was torture only less than actually having to say it.

Eventually, Harry's voice stops registering in his ears and he wants to hug him to show how sorry he is, once again, how proud Harry makes him and how far away from that trembly boy that didn't know what to do has he truly come, but Anne beats him to it, launces herself from the table and cradles Harry as a child. Overwhelmed, Louis stumbles out of the kitchen and leans against the outside of the wall, sliding down and trying to get his head to clear so he could finally be useful for something. But the fog needs a while to process and maybe too much of what Harry said about being hit for the first time, fighting back only to be locked up in the basement like an animal for a week finally registers. Maybe he finally realizes that Harry just admitted to his own mother that he was afraid of calling her for help because his own father promised him he will destroy them all if he ever speaks. How he had to endure being called a lowlife just because he couldn't walk the way father wanted him to and how he was once beaten because the suit the bastard tailored for him didn't make him look „anything less than a failure and a wimp than he actually is“. How he got home from school with a bloody nose or a twisted wrist and how father laughed at him, then beat him up as punishment for not fighting back against the boys that assaulted him in school. How he believed, absolutely and truly that there is no way out and how the realization of that caused that panic attack that got him on Louis' doorstep.

He can't get his brain to work and get this. He never will, not even years later. There are many more horrifying stories that Harry would and could and will tell, but this... This was torture hearing on a pure, human level of a being, no matter that he loved him.

Silence and then weeping graced the house for a bit, Harry sobbing a bit here and there, Anne calming him down with trembly words of nonsense, because her sobs weren't any less serious. Then, Gemma stumbled out into the hallway right over him and grabbed for the house door. In a haze, Louis jumped after her and grabbed her, right before she could escape from the house. Silently, he tried explaining that Harry needs her, but was met with more sobs, a frighteningly cold look and murder in her eyes. Louis held her tighter and she slammed her fists into his chest, weaker than she had the strength to, because the crying was taking energy from her. She didn't stop, not even when her knees buckled and she sank both herself and Louis back to the ground. The fists kept hitting him and he pulled her in tighter, trying to think about what he should do.

Glaring at him, she sobbed away about how she didn't fucking know and how she would have ripped the bastard to pieces if she saw even a glimpse of it, how it wasn't fair and how he has to pay. Louis could do nothing but nod, scared to break eye contact with her, partly because she looked like a wild beast about to tear him up to shreds and then also because she pushed words out like she was justifying herself to her own reflection in Louis' eyes.

It stopped after a while. Louis could no longer hear Anne of Harry sobbing and Gemma calmed down too, breathing loudly propped up against the wall, like she just ran a marathon.

Louis moved up to stand and Gemma stopped him.

„Are you good to him? Promise me you are good to him.“, she cracked out and it took him a lot to find his voice.

„I try to protect him. And if I can't, I try to make it hurt less.“

„And are you succeeding?“, Gemma challenges.

Louis opens his mouth to say something, but gets interrupted.

„He is. I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for him.“, Harry says, standing in the doorway with Anne.

Louis scans over him, clinically worried, too exhausted for emotion, but Harry has it in him to dive down and snuggle into him. The fog clears, at least a bit, he has his boy back in his arms. Granted, his hands are shaking and his face is red and hot from all the tears, but Louis has him in that moment and just holds on. Anne catches his look over Harry's  shoulder and holds it. She can't smile in encouragement, not to him, all her energy probably used up on Harry.

***

Explaining to his mother that he plans to report his father, for a lot of things, and a lot of publicity goes much easier. They sit in the living room that night, Gemma and Anne holding each half of Harry and Louis on the couch beside them, fonding all over the place.

Gemma asks him what does he want them to do to make HIM pay and Harry reacts with the same steel in his eyes that Louis came to associate with these explanations. They don't say anything about the stealing, but from Gemma's and Anne's reaction, Louis finally sees where Harry gets his determination to fight back from. Now, when he has support and someone who has his back, he can and will move mountains and Louis can't wait to cheer him on.

Neither of them say anything against the plan, although Gemma is a bit hard to convince that she can't go after her father herself, that she has to let Harry bring him down. She swears she will support the media coverage to push him deeper into it and Anne nods away like she agrees with it absolutely .

Neither of them ask why Harry didn't do this sooner. Or why did he choose the weapon he did. Louis presumes that is it not really necessary to ask what is obvious.

That night, when Gemma and Harry fall asleep on one another on the couch, he feels Anne's hand shaking him away from his own slumber and pointing to the kitchen.

He gets up and steels himself for „the conversation“, but what he isn't ready for is a full-on hug from a sobbing mother. Not knowing what to do, he hugs her back and tries to look like he has it handled.

„Thank you for bringing him back. And for giving him strength to save himself.“, she says, looking him in the eyes and Louis nods, no words necessary.

She starts making tea, teases him for choosing Yorkshire but still prepares it perfectly and then looks at him again.

„You take care of him, alright?“

He nods, turns towards the living room and smiles.

They will survive.

***  


The trip back to London has Harry in much higher spirits. Even though it has to be a day later, Harry worried that staying too long might jeopardize the plan, Louis is certain that this has been a complete success.

Harry is happy and willing to say so, loudly. He gushes with Gemma over their time in Paris and Niall and Zayn's wedding and, finally, „the couple tattoo“, as Gemma calls it. His eyes shine and laughter comes out in high-pitched, Harry-is-beyond-elation-tones. Anne and Gemma both look relieved and proud of him.

Promising that they will be back as soon as possible, Harry and Louis leave and it goes perfect. Harry has no doubts, at least he says so and smiles wide and big while holding Louis hand on the gear shift.

Louis stares at him like he probably shouldn't while driving anywhere, but he can't help himself.

„You ready to do the rest? “, he asks and if his tone is serious, so is the glint in Harry's eye. Whatever happens (and they will succeed), Louis at least knows that neither of them will regret trying this.

It is also totally worth it when Harry claims that they can't drive the perfect high school make-out car across the country without actually using it. Louis indulges him (himself really), parks it at an entrance to a forest close to a highway just close of London and makes fluffy, chick-flick-love on the back seat of a car. Josh will probably be too amused to be angry.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it! This is the last chapter, after this only the epilogue and I am done with Petrichor.  
> Makes me a bit sad, after all this time, this fic has been with me in one of the strangest periods of my life, but here it is. 
> 
> Comments are highly appreciated!

Lou brings the video of the house layout and security detail on an early Monday morning in the beginning of September. Harry hasn’t been home or contacted his father for two months already, one of them spent hiding out in the bookstore. He is antsy, agitated and he and Louis are at each others throats more often than not the last couple of days. 

He is going over college applications that Louis is practically forcing him into, claiming that Harry should do his life like he normally would after “the plan” is done, but Harry has no intention to move into a student dorm anytime in the near future. This makes Louis angry, feeling like he is the one dragging Harry away from some magical life that he wants, while really it couldn’t be more opposite.  
“Trouble in paradise?”, Lou asks him as she sits in the armchair beside Harry. 

Harry shrugs and looks up at her with a small smile. He knows the tension in the air and in Louis’ shoulders across the room, behind the counter, is tangible and all that, but he doesn’t really know how to complain about relationship problems to anyone else but Louis and Louis and him have trouble communicating recently. 

“Well, I have it. The video, all that you asked for.”, she says and places a small digital camera on the table in front of him. That is a sign for Louis to come running to the table too, shouting for Zayn and Niall to come down from the first floor.  
“Thank you Lou. Really. I will never be able to repay you for this.”, Harry says, leaning towards her like an old friend that she is and when she leans in to give him a hug and a pat on the head it is familiar and comforting.  
“You don’t owe me anything idiot. Just do this carefully. And be happy afterwards.”, she warns, throwing a bit of a dirty look to Louis’ side. Louis blinks and frowns and looks away and Harry feels bad for him.  
“I will.”, he nods and Lou hugs him again. 

Zayn and Niall are tangents away about the quality of the plans then already drawn based on Harry’s descriptions, supported now by more detailed footage. Louis looks at them, then back at Harry and then awkwardly shrugs, steps back a bit and nods to Lou, trying to get lost in the background. 

“So, what happened to the tape from the night Harry escaped?”, he asks shyly and Lou looks over at him, smiling despite herself. She approves of Louis, that is clear as day.  
“There are no tapes anymore. He got it all upgraded to a fancy new digital system and all the footage from the camera gets erased every three months, connected with the computer in his office.”

Doing the math in his head, Harry is aware that this means they have to act soon, in the next week even, to increase the chances to actually get the video. Zayn and Niall are prepared for this though, having worked out a pretty detailed plan already, just based on Harry’s descriptions of how the house looks like. 

“Right. Thank you.”, he says again and nods at her. Lou is good at reading people, knows that is a signal for her to get away now, forever, so she can’t be implicated anymore.  
“Text me the day you want to do it, I will shut the cameras off and run for it, as arranged. I managed to switch them off two times already, a technician had to come up to look it up, so it shouldn’t look incredibly suspicious that they stop working on that night.”, she says and Niall laughs.  
“That is pretty smart, but I have something better.”, he puts a USB flash drive in front of her and instructs her to put it in the computer in the office as soon as possible, just let it connect and run for 5 minutes, then destroy it.  
“What is it?”, Louis asks, curiosity winning over his natural sulkiness of recent few days.  
“A virus. Designed to shut everything off this very Wednesday, 9 o’clock sharp.”  
Harry looks at them, surprised.  
“So it’s happening this week?”, he tries not to sound anxious but judging by the look Zayn throws him, he fails.  
“Yes. Your father is announced to be on an award ceremony at the mayor’s office at that time. Lou can leave early, the virus will work the magic and we are as prepared as we will ever be.”, Zayn says and Harry trusts him, he really does. He is just also very scared. 

“Ok then, Wednesday it is.”, Lou nods and stands up to leave. Her pat on Harry’s shoulder is firm and affirmative and Harry gathers himself. He can do this, he must do it. 

***  
“Are you ready?”, Louis asks him that night, lying beside him in the bed. They are fighting, or a variation of fighting, but still sleep together. Harry wakes up morning after morning in the same arms, never failing to remind him that even though they don’t manage to be perfect, they are still there, permanent. 

“Yes. Are you?”, he asks back and Louis huffs.  
“What?”, Harry fires back, a bit of anger seeping through him again. He doesn’t know how to communicate with Louis like this. It’s new and it hurts a bit, because Louis is still there and present and supportive and doesn’t stop worrying or caring for him, but still sulks more often than not. 

“Nothing. I am ready.” , Louis shoots back and Harry is up and turning to him in a second. He turns on the light beside the bed and pulls his body away from Louis.  
“Will you stop making this difficult please? I need you to let it go, whatever you think I should or shouldn’t do when this is over and just… Just not now Louis, please!”, he argues and he guesses it’s as close to a grown up conversation he can have in this situation. Neither of them are close to tears or shouting, so it’s a quiet emotion of “I worry for you so much it exhausts us both” that seeps through both of their lungs like a quiet, hissing gas leak. 

Louis looks at him and shakes his head.  
“I don’t want you to throw your life away.”, Louis says.  
“I am not throwing my life away Louis! I am fighting for it! And excuse me for not knowing what is it that I want to do if we get out this, because there is chance that we might not!”, he raises his voice and Louis flinches away from the “if” like he has been burned by it. 

That is the root of the problem really. Louis has an escape strategy from how dangerous this is by dreaming up futures that Harry is too scared to even consider now.  
“I don’t… We will get out of this Harry. And I want you to live and do whatever makes you happy when we do.”, Louis says quietly.  
“I will be happy, you idiot! I will have you!”, Harry shouts full force now and well… Louis looks at him with emotion that he can’t describe.  
“You will. Have me, I mean. But there are other things you want too, aren’t there? Like writing and publishing and going to school.”  
“And I will get to those things in my own time and my own terms! I don’t need you shoving college applications down my throat now, just to occupy my time to wait this out. Quit treating me like I am a toddler, you idiot!”

Louis is visibly flinching at each word Harry says and this is starting to hurt now. And Harry needs to stop, this fight, the shouting, the hurting, he needs to stop right now, or he will go crazy. 

“I am sorry for doing it again.”, Louis whispers and turns around, about to step out of the bed. Harry grabs his shoulder and drags his fingers slowly down, until he reaches their tattoo. 

“Louis.”  
He turns back around and there are no tears in his eyes, thank God, but there is resignation and despair and Harry doesn’t really know what to do with himself but wrap his arms around Louis’ shoulders and pull until their foreheads are touching. 

“I love it when you take care of me. And when you worry about me and fret and all that. Makes me feel warm and secure and happy.”, he says quietly and Louis’ breath hitches.  
“But I still overdo it.”, he says back and chuckles.  
“Sometimes you just overthink it. And it’s ok, I love that about you too, but now… can you just try to go moment by moment for a bit? I need you to be here with me now.”, he taps the back of Louis’ head and gets a chuckle in return. 

It’s better the next day, the tension between the two of them evaporated into clinginess due to nerves. Zayn and Niall are like a well-oiled machine in the way they operate lately, executive spirit at the highest, while Harry can’t shake off a feeling that he truly is a toddler messing with serious people, however much he might protest at being treated like one. He is scared, still, but there is no way back now. 

That is how he finds himself saying his goodbyes to Niall and Zayn when they set things in motion on Wednesday evening. It’s 9 p.m. and the house is long empty, as far as Lou has confirmed when she left about an hour ago. The virus has been inserted yesterday and the boys are ready to break in and take what they need. Due to detailed plan of the house available, Niall says they should be out in less than 20 minutes, with the money, documents and the footage, so Harry and Louis head to a club where Jackson is supposed to be tonight. Ridiculously, all it took to predict his plans was a bit of Facebook stalking, which Louis did with gleeful sassiness. 

The club is in the posh part of town, so Harry and Louis dress up, reasonably, not to draw too much attention but just enough to lure Jackson out to follow them home and then report about it to Harry’s father. By the time they arrive home, Jackson following, Niall and Zayn should already be done and waiting for them. That way the cover up the alibi perfectly. 

And it goes according to plan, almost perfectly so. Louis receives a message that Zayn and Niall arrived home in the first half an hour of hanging around the club and Harry breathes a sigh of relief. He is tense and it is obvious, which makes the job of making them both look like two oblivious lovebirds a bit difficult, but knowing that the plan is already half done helps very much. Jeff texts him a “Good Luck!” and as Harry is pocketing his phone, he sees Jackson at the entrance of the club. From there, he can’t see Harry or Louis and that needs to change as soon as possible, he realizes. 

He slides his hands over Louis’ waist, leans in over the bar against which they are supported and whispers:  
“Ready?”  
“To snog you until everyone can’t stop looking at the two of us and then drag you home to finish all this? Always.”, Louis answers cheekily and takes Harry by the hand to the middle of the dance floor. 

It happens perfectly, the other people dancing pretty scarce and the beat of a song fitting a slow grind that will allow the two of them to keep looking only at each other and the lights that spasm over the floor just enough so that everyone who looks in the club will know there are two men dancing there. Harry knows he has to draw attention to his identity more, so he leans a bit away from Louis, drags him into a position where his face is clearly visible to the side of the bar where Jackson is sitting with a few mates. Success is evident as soon as he hears them shouting over the music, not bothering to hide their disgust at seeing Harry Styles, all done up in a patterned shirt and skinny jeans, kissing a man to the beat like he will die if he stops. He knows it worked out, trained as he is to the prickly feeling of judging, bullying looks aimed at him. Louis doesn’t budge or move in any way that would show he noticed, but the way he grips Harry’s shoulder while swaying with him is reassuring him that they are on the same page. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry sees Jackson reaching for his phone and he waits entire two minutes before slowly pulling Louis towards the exit. People part for them, as giggly and horny as they look like and that is why Harry knows this is going brilliantly. 

Outside, Louis keeps kissing him in the middle of the street, hand gripping the back of Harry’s shirt to signal when Jackson will appear behind Harry’s back. They don’t have to wait long. Harry doesn’t look back, but moves forward, gripping Louis’ hand and walking down the street. They have quite a walk back home to do, buy as much time as is possible and keep Jackson on their tail the entire time. It works. 

They are a block away from Louis’ bookstore when Harry stumbles over something while trying to kiss and walk and Louis catches him readily, giggles into his shoulder and asks:  
“Ok there, sweetheart?”, unusually loud, which would be suspicious if they were not trying to pass for drunk. 

Harry nods, snuggles closer and sneaks a look to the side. And Jackson is there, at the end of the street, phone to his ear and talking to someone. He is trying to be sneaky, but not really succeeding, too trusting in the charade of Louis and Harry being oblivious as he is. 

So it looks perfect. Harry should have learned that that is not how things work, not in his world. 

Now right in front of the bookstore, Harry pulls a bit away from Louis, to let him search for the key to open the door. He can practically feel Jackson’s eyes at the back of his head and he spreads his arms and shouts a:  
“Finally home!”, the way a drunk person would and then it all comes crashing down. There are tires screeching down the street and Louis drops the keys in surprise, because there are hardly any cars in this street at night. The lights illuminate the two of them and then the car stops. Harry turns that way and has to shield his eyes from the light for a moment before his stomach clenches. He knows the car. The plates. And the person climbing out of the back seat. Perfectly shiny black shoes that echo down the street as he approaches. 

Scared, he grips Louis’ arm and whimpers. It is an impossible scenario that his father would actually bother to come track him down by himself. He must have pissed him off beyond belief. Or something went wrong. 

“It’s ok. Just stay behind me.”, Louis says and pushes Harry slightly behind his frame, pretending to eye the street up and down and notices Jackson approaching openly from the bottom of it, but really leaning into his own doorbell like an idiot, which is certain to alert Zayn and Niall upstairs. 

He stops a few steps away from Harry and Louis. Looks at Louis like he is an irrelevant obstruction and then zeroes in on Harry behind him.  
“Get in the car Harry.”, he says, absolute certainty the he will be obeyed in his tone.  
Harry clenches his fists and breathes in, steps beside Louis instead of behind him and looks at his father straight in the eye.  
“I’m not going anywhere. I live here now.”

His voice is shaky at the edges, but it works, simply because his father is absolutely not used to having anyone oppose him about anything. He widens his eyes and smirks a bit, mean and hurtful to the maximum, but Harry steels himself so it doesn’t bother him.  
“I will not have a faggot for a son Harry. Step away from that mongrel and get into the car, or there will be consequences.”, he says, coming closer slowly, like a predator.  
Louis stays silent and grips Harry’s arm in reassurance, but Harry is having none of this.  
“This is my boyfriend Louis. And I am living with him now.”, he says. 

His father’s brow creases and his arms shake in that way they always do just before they hit. He is close now, close enough to hurt, but Harry and Louis are both aware.  
“Did you forget what happens when you disobey me boy?”, he grits through his teeth and that is when Louis snaps into a step right in front of him. Harry is grabbing at him from behind, but Louis is too fast in getting up in father’s face, tiny and feisty as he is. He doesn’t cause fear, Harry can see that. But he should. Because the way Louis’ shoulders hunch back, his muscles clench and eyes squint, all of that screams power, decisive, protective and loud power, deafening in the silence of the street.  
“You are not touching him.”, he says and it is steady and strong. But father sneers at that and swings an arm to strike at Louis. Maybe a fight would happen, if Louis got hit or hit back, but Harry is right there and absolutely certain that Louis will not be harmed. Not at any cost. He stops his father’s hand and pushes himself forward to push the man back. It speaks volumes about how this is different than any other interaction they had, because his father actually stumbles back. He stares and then grips Harry’s arm back. 

“You know what happens to other dear people when you disobey, boy.”, he says and Harry is amazed that he is playing at the last card, the family card, so soon. Disarmed, that is what he is.  
“Mum and Gemma know about what you did. Who you are. It doesn’t matter, whatever you want to do, you can’t hurt me anymore. So get your lackeys and get lost.”

His tone is strong, manly now and he can hear it. Makes him feel like he won in a battle he was fighting for way too long.  
Right then, the door behind them opens and Niall and Zayn step out, silently asking the question if there will be fight. And father doesn’t do that, not when he has Jackson and the driver there to see him chicken out, not when there are men in front of him and not just a trembling boy anymore. Not when he, for the first time in forever, has more to lose. 

He steps away, lets Harry’s arm go and looks at him, like he wants to say it will never be over. Harry knows it won’t. But the players are going to change, that is for sure. He stares after the retreating figure of his father and enjoys seeing him go. There is no sadness at this being his father anymore. Just certainty that he did the right thing. 

***

Still, when he enters the bookstore, his legs are shaky and the edges of his vision are going slightly dim. The thing is, this wasn’t supposed to happen. His father wasn’t supposed to be in direct contact, not showing direct interest. Because, if he feels he lost so much control that he has to come and try get Harry back personally, then how much more dangerous is he? What does he have to lose now?  
Harry can’t even sit to process what it means and how this changes the game. Absently, he hears Zayn confirming that they stole what they need and that the money is at Liam’s. Louis asks about the documents and when Zayn confirms that they have it all, Harry realizes. 

“Louis!”, he shouts and Louis jumps, then rushes to him.  
“What?!”  
“You can’t send anything to the press!”, Harry urges and Louis’ face falls, scrunching into confusion.  
“What do you mean, that’s the deal, Jeff defends you and I get stuff published, so your father can’t bribe anyone…”  
But Harry is frenetically waving his head.  
“No, no, no! You can’t, not now! He has seen you here, he knows how you reacted, if you get it published anywhere he will know that we tricked him somehow, he will come after you, I can’t…”, Harry loses breath and fights for it in futile little gasps, while Louis tries to calm him down from his rant.

It takes a while, but he learns how to breathe again and pushes his hair back in frustration, snapping his finger in concentration.  
“Jeff! I have to call Jeff!”

He manages to wake him up on the third try, Jeff’s voice gruff and unresponsive until he figures out about what this is. Harry tells him everything that just happened and while Jeff says that there is no need to change anything major, because having his father there just strengthens the alibi they have, he agrees that this means Louis shouldn’t be involved directly with the publicity. 

“I have someone who can do it without hassle, but you need to bring me the documents and the footage right now. It’s best if we do it tonight, before your father manages to get the police to your place. Make it look like his showing up there scared you enough to go public with stuff you stole from him two months ago.” 

Harry nods and agrees to everything, still high on adrenaline and almost runs out to Jeff’s place, but Zayn stops him.  
“It will look beyond suspicious if you do it now. Maybe he has someone outside, watching you. Give it to me and me and Niall will pretend we are going somewhere else.” 

Louis waits for Niall and Zayn to leave to approach Harry. He touches him with caution and tenderness, but Harry has this feeling that he will combust in seconds. 

“I need you to make me not think about it. Please, please, make me not think about it.”, he repeats into Louis’ shoulder and that is all it takes to find himself being dragged upstairs.  
Sex hasn’t ever been about anything else but need to express what they feel for each other with them. But now, Harry needs to stop thinking. 

Louis towers over him, engulfs him in breaths and touches and he is really good at being everywhere at the same time, so that Harry feels so overwhelmed that he can’t think. He allows himself be manipulated however Louis wants him and it takes ages, because Louis doesn’t rush. 

Morning is hours away, or so it seemed hours ago, Harry is not very sure on when his back hit the bed, but he does know that Louis’ lips around him draw all of his focus on the barely there touch before he gets sucked in and time flutters around them. Louis is sucking him off and fingering him at the same time, painfully slow and seeping through to Harry’s hazy mind only in whispers of directions. His hands find Louis’ hair and he grips, but doesn’t push him either way, just holds on while arching his back of the bed and coming everywhere. Right when the world starts coming back to him, Louis leans in and starts kissing him, fingers still in Harry and he pushes this way and that way until Harry is sinking again. Before he can come again, Louis takes his fingers out and tries calming his hips enough to enter him. Harry is a fidgety mess of limbs and reflexes, attention snapping in all directions and it takes Louis taking away all touches for him to become pliant enough to receive just what is given to him. 

Pushing in, Louis swallows his scream and keeps him firmly against the bed, combing his fingers through Harry’s hair until he knows he has the rhythm that overwhelms the other boy. Harry’s thighs are trembling even before Louis’ start to, he gasps and moans and whines his way to Louis’ back and just grabs and holds on. Louis doesn’t lose focus though, not for a second, keeps playing Harry’s body until he is done and dead and exhausted and just wants to come and sink. Sensing the despair to just let go, Louis starts slamming into him faster, grabs Harry’s hair and pulls back quickly. Harry is half aware that his throat is exposed to be bitten and his hole is still being pounded, letting go to the perfect pain of having his hair pulled and then he is gone.  
He doesn’t come back up from wherever he sunk into, unaware of the world and phones and worries and an exhausted man lying beside him and breathing him in, fingers gripping over Harry’s chest like he will fly off the bed if he doesn’t hold on when he himself comes all over the sheets between them. 

***

It’s properly morning when Louis wakes him up to take a shower. Harry is very much aware that he had the living daylights fucked out of him last night, even without the way he has trouble re-learning how to move his muscles as indication. Louis looks a bit worried and very much proud at the same time, but helps him into the bathroom either way. 

“Thank you.”, he whispers into Louis shoulder as the other boy is shampooing his hair under the shower. It’s an expression meant for so much more than just the shower, or even sex from last night, but Louis knows. He always does.  
“I like the way this looks on you.”, he says, tracing the tattoo on Harry’s arm with this fingers. It’s delicate and perfect, still, somehow, not enough to show just how parched a desert he was before he stumbled into Louis’ life.  
“Want to get a new one?”, Harry asks, looking up with his eyes squinting because of the shampoo. Louis brushes his hair back, wipes his forehead and kisses his nose to get him to open his eyes properly. It is a very Louis thing to do, handle him like he is fragile. Harry guesses he kind of is, and strong in being supported in his fragility.  
“What do you want? A dagger and a rose?”, Louis teases him and Harry frowns, shrugs, looks down like he is ashamed and he knows that Louis will overreact now, fret that he insulted him somehow.  
“We can, you can, whatever you want baby.”, he rushes it out, but Harry giggles at the predictable reaction and smirks in the end. Louis is not surprised, or at least doesn’t show it, but smacks Harry’s shoulder slightly.  
“You would, wouldn’t you. Fine, you already look like an English rose.”  
It’s an attempt to tease, but there is no meaning behind it that can be understood in any other way but besotted. Harry knows they both are, so he laughs it through, leans over Louis to let the water flow over them and kisses him once again. 

***

It starts appearing in the newspapers immediately, as Jeff had promised it will. His mother and Gemma both phone to tell him that people have called the house to ask them about interviews and statements and that they are planning to give one out, harsh and accusative as possible. 

“I will enjoy that more than I will anything else I have done in my life.”. Gemma swears while talking to Harry and even though she is still livid, betrayed and hurt beyond belief, Harry appreciates that she is playing along with him in this.  
Anne makes him swear that he is taking care of himself and then he waits. 

Zayn and Niall come in around the afternoon to report back that the scans of the documents or the footage uploaded on the internet haven’t led anyone back on their trail. As far as the world knows, someone just got in possession of proof of his father neck deep in tax fraud and corruption in everything that he cashed in on in the recent few years. The man himself is not reported to be seen anywhere, it has been only half a day. 

All of the papers have no problems in identifying the young man being beaten up on the video as Harry, thanks to his father’s habit of parading him about on all the important events. Everyone knows, it’s all out now and just because nobody knows that he is living at Louis’ place he doesn’t get reporters calling for statements. 

Very few of them actually ask the questions of how all this got out, convinced that it’s probably due to business or criminal enemies. 

It’s nearly evening when the police inspector comes. He is a tall, broad man with greyish beard scattered over his face. He looks annoyed and tired and like he would rather be anywhere but on the doorstep of a bookstore in downtown London, sizing both Harry and Louis up with knowing eyes. 

Harry’s father has friends in the police force, he has met some of them previously, but he doesn’t remember this man and he must ask himself is this the possibility of good news then.  
“Inspector Keynes. You are Harry Styles?”, he asks and Louis grips Harry’s hand as he nods.  
“Well, Mr Styles, your house has been robbed last night. I was called in and your father provided me with this address to come and talk to you.”  
His tone is unreadable and Harry really has no clue about him being friend or foe at this point. 

“Not my house. I don’t live there anymore, I live here now, as of two months now.”, he says and keeps his face neutral and Louis frowns beside him, playing up a little bit of surprise. The man looks at Louis shortly and then back at Harry.  
“So, you wouldn’t know anything about the robbery? Where were you last night, might I ask?”

“I have no idea about the robbery. And I am sure my father can tell you where I was last night, since he showed up here and tried to force me to go with him. You could also talk to Jackson Richards, who followed me and my boyfriend from a club we were in last night and notified my father about my whereabouts. I am surprised he hasn’t mentioned this already?”  
Harry is using all he has to make this look cold and unimportant and he probably is failing a bit, if the tremble in his hands is to judge by.  
“I suppose you are the boyfriend who can confirm all this?”, Keynes turns to Louis with a raised eyebrow and Louis nods, gripping Harry’s hand again.

“Son.”, inspector leans towards him into a look of understanding and Harry is terrified for a moment that he is going to turn out to be someone from his father’s paylist, someone who can dig deeper and test all of Harry’s defences. 

But, for once, he is wrong in expecting the worst. 

“I have read the papers and seen the news. Your father would have every motif imaginable to discredit you right now. And, if the footage that I have seen today is as real as it seems to be, you would have all the more reasons to run away from him.”, he says and raises an eyebrow at Harry. 

“The footage is real. As are the documents. All to be given in to the police, as soon as I call my lawyer.”, Harry answers.  
“You seem awfully prepared.”, Keynes says, squinting his eyes at both of them. 

“I know my father inspector. I knew him two months ago, when I ran away from home, with those documents and the video. And I knew him last night too, when he gave me the final reason I had to try and protect myself like this.”  
Harry levels the man with the best grown-up look he has and it might work, if only he would express anything readable on his face.  
“And the reason why the police wasn’t your first address once you decided to use those documents and the video?”

This would be it. Harry opens his mouth, closes them, looks down and shrugs, playing up the lost boy as much as he can.  
“I didn’t know how much my father can cover up?”, he says it like it’s a question and maybe it’s his tone that finally coaxes some emotion onto the inspectors face. He blinks, looks at Harry like he is a rare, caged animal that is begging him to release it and nods. 

“Yes. Sadly, I can’t confirm that I wouldn’t be asking myself the same question.”  
There is no malice in his look when he extends his hand towards Harry, his mildly hostile guard down. 

“Mr Styles, I will be going now. I don’t see why would I need to ask you any additional questions about the robbery. About the other things, I advise you to go through your lawyer further on.”  
His hand is still extended and since Harry is making no move towards shaking it, inspector Keynes clears his throat and scratches his neck, almost awkwardly looking down.  
“Good luck.”, he says and turns around. 

In seconds, he is gone, a police car waiting for him in front of the bookstore.

Harry is left trapped in amazement. He leans back into the couch they are sitting on and looks at Louis.  
“How possible is it that this is really it?”, he asks and Louis looks back, biting his lip. 

“It’s not done. Call Jeff.”, he urges and Harry goes for his phone, his grip on Louis’ hand a bit looser, but still there.


	15. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it! I surely took my time with this fic, has been stretched over a long time now. I apologize to anyone who has been reading and waiting, life got in the way a few times.   
> Petrichor is now finished!   
> I am still writing and will continue on newer work soon. Thank you for reading!  
> Let me know what you think, especially now that it is done!

Louis finds him in the spot he slowly came to associate with Harry's long, struck-by-inspiration sessions, where he sits hunched over a paper pad and writes in long, never-ending sentences, chasing the point with digressing thoughts and tying it all up with the last word, like magical glue that holds two of the same magnet poles together. Harry is usually in his lavender wool sweater during those, smell of baked cookies and autumn clinging to him sitting on a window sill. Today, Louis stole the sweater for himself and Harry is wearing only boxer shorts. 

He looks better. Almost unharmed, if it wasn't for frowny faces he pulls every now and then, leaving no doubt as to about what he is writing. Louis adores him, has for quite a while now, but this renewed, strong, emotional and brave version, comfortable in his skin and scars, it makes him love the boy (the man) even more.   
„How is that novel coming up?“, he asks, leaning on the door frame and Harry doesn't even lift his head up from the paper, shrugs and continues scribbling. Louis leaves him to it, a smile on his lips. 

Later, he is putting the cookies Harry made in a jar and whistling along with a song playing from the kitchen radio, when Harry wraps himself around Louis’ back and hums. It is familiar and comfortable and feels like running a marathon and losing spectacularly, having your world sink in tears and then finding that one person staring at you like you always had the medal hanging around your neck. It feels like rejoicing in spite of the madness. Louis has accepted a long time ago that life is always going to be a bit bullshit. And even though life holds its part of the bargain, Louis pulls back occasionally, looks over to Niall and Zayn cuddling on his couch like kittens saved from a rainy night, sees Harry grow into what he always would become and, sometimes, he sees his own reflection in surfaces and recognizes a happy boy shining back at him. 

“I am not writing a novel, it’s just… Nothing.”, Harry murmurs against Louis’ back and he turns around slowly, looks at the boy like he invented the Earth and smiles. 

“Nothing is nothing when you do it.”  
And he believes it. 

***  
Gemma is a regular now around them, since she moved to London a few months ago. Louis adores her and Harry is blossoming in having someone he missed so much beside him. She is unreasonably protective sometimes, drives Harry crazy, but Louis can see how loved and cared for he feels. She drags them out more often, clubs and gigs and it is a bit of a whirlwind of trying to catch up with memories and inside jokes of siblings, the kind that distance or time can’t touch. Harry giggles in a way a kid would, plays up the protective brother role every time a guy even looks in Gemma’s direction, makes silly faces to cheer her up when she begins moaning about her stressful job. 

Anne calls each day, with silly typical mum stuff and Harry is visibly excited to hear from her, blabbering out jokes that nobody finds funny but they laugh anyway. Silently, Anne asks Louis with gestures and meaningful looks, about Harry and Gemma and the tiny snippets of insecurity that they both slip into sometimes, but Louis worries even without her having to ask him about it. 

Harry is not quite there yet. Better, stable, happy as can be, but trauma is something that doesn’t go away, a shadow that shrinks and fades, but is never erased. Zayn says he doesn’t see the sadness in Harry anymore, gushes about how proud he is of Louis for pulling through the rough patches, but Louis knows it isn't over and probably will not be for a lifetime. Harry flinches from touches of strangers and can’t look at happy families outside of their little bubble, like he knows there is something twisted and broken inside of him, something fought and defeated, but not killed. 

“I don’t want to remember it. But I know I have to.”, Harry tells him one night, both of them snuggled under the covers and breathing shallow, as to not to disturb the silence.   
“I love you. No matter what.”, Louis says back, because there is nothing else he can possibly say. There is a fine line at which Harry’s demons become truly and only his and even though he tries to move into Harry’s skin and suffer through the sobs instead of him, it isn’t realistic. He can’t be anything else but support then and there and maybe it hurts, but they both have to learn that it is all he can be. 

“I know.”, Harry says back, snuggles closer and aligns the tattoos on their hands, rain and starving earth and stares at it.   
“I sometimes think you are going to disappear when I open my eyes in the morning. That it will all be just a dream, meeting you and running away and having this life now.”, he whispers and Louis’ hands tremble in horror. He scoots down the bed until he is on eye level with Harry, pushes himself into his space, breathes in when he breathes out and combs his fingers through Harry’s hair, long curls down the back now, like rivulets of resistance. 

“Never gonna let you go. Always with me Harry, I promise.”   
He doesn’t really know how much it helps. Niall claims it must not be completely healthy, the clingy and needy way they orbit around each other, like stars pulled together and not remembering how to let go. Then again, none of them are completely healthy, separately or together and maybe that is the point in it all.   
Harry kisses him with eyes opened, staring into Louis’ eyes like he will blink and it will all go to hell. They deal, somehow. 

There are excellent periods. Louis will not say days, because their life is generally a fairy tale interrupted with and occasional nightmare and that is more than most people can say about their lives. 

Zayn gets an offer to set up his own exhibition, a comic-book inspired series that attracts plenty of attention and puts his name in a bit of a spotlight. He is delighted, money starts appearing, honestly earned now and Niall is beaming like a proud peacock, bragging about his husband to anyone that would listen.   
Louis has to interrupt a few more of Zayn’s breakdowns, all about him being worried that Niall deserves more than Zayn can give him. Louis also learns a lot from the marriage of his best friends, like how to let it go and love someone without suffocating them with worry, to listen and pay attention and give the world gravity only when it is absolutely necessary. 

Niall spends a lot of time in his workshop, fixing this or that for their new house, that one place where they can’t invest the money yet. Harry sneaks in and either helps him or writes in the rhythmic noise of Niall working. They have built a bit of special relationship too, Louis sees it as clear as day. Niall is protective and silly at the same time, a bit like Gemma is. Harry learns to trust him more than anyone besides Louis probably, shaken out of his shell with Niall’s unpredictable antics. And it seems to work both ways, with Niall finding someone who can finally understand his insecurities and deeper problems, ones he would have never confessed to Zayn or Louis, knowing there is no way to tell either of them and hide it from the other one. From the tiny clues that Harry leaves him, Louis learns how to interpret Niall’s way of panicking about his marriage and life, help him or get out of the way when he needs Zayn to fix it up. It turns out for the better, because Louis knew for years that Niall hides a lot, always making his thoughts matter a bit less than the others, but Harry listens and fills in the tiny holes of loneliness perfectly. 

***  
Harry was trying to act strong and collected for an entire time of the trial process, the witness stand and questioning, doctors asking about past injuries and lawyers trying to corner him somewhere to make deals about letting his father go with something, anything. Jeff was a wall between him and the sharks, but there were reporters and paps all over the place, invading his peace and unsettling everyone who approached to talk to him. Gemma and Louis dealt with them in a sassy, dismissive way, but Harry was a piece of edible meat, trying to hide his own innocence and mild temper behind a mask of indifference. 

People from all over showed up to confirm that his father was an abusive asshole with no regard for law or humanity, but Harry was very reserved towards everyone, aware that none of them spoke up for years and the only reason for their lack of silence now was that he managed to get enough details public, so that his father couldn’t cover it up.   
Jeff pushed all of his other cases to the side and worked day and night on putting his father behind bars for good, but there were attempts from very powerful positions to stop him. It was all a game far too serious and well-played for Harry to understand and the wrath of his father was not decreasing. Jackson and his mother abandoned the sinking ship with the first droplets of trouble, but there were other minions appearing everywhere, so much that Harry had to ask for police protection until the case was over. 

And then there was the day of his testimony, a bright Wednesday afternoon when he put his best suit on and went into a hell pit, trying to put his biggest demon down. Louis was trembling and loudly proclaiming the world a wonderful place where everything will work out after today, drowning out the clues of Harry’s panic. He needed to be strong, determined, put together. 

“You played this game, now finish it.”, he was repeating to himself, but the bile rising in his throat didn’t help with remembering why he thought it is a good idea to rob his father blind and then expose him like this. 

“Will you be ok in there kid?”, Inspector Keynes asked him when they arrived to the court house and neither Louis nor Harry answered him, looking at each other and stepping through into the room. 

His father was a picture of an undefeated overlord, head held high as if he was about to be congratulated and awarded, not accused of molesting his son for 5 years. Flames in his eyes, he sized up Louis like he was a piece of trash and then looked Harry straight in the eyes, challenging for defiance. 

And Harry provided. Saying the words out loud, in front of a room full of strangers was a terror less horrible than imagining that his father would ever get a chance to come near him again and destroy the life he built. 

“My father did abuse me physically and emotionally for 5 years while I was living with him. Beatings, threats and general terror was a normal part of my life. He said I could never say anything to anyone, or he would harm my mother and sister.” 

Jeff asked him why did he come out with this now and Harry looked back at his father, eyes screaming bloody murder at him, his lips twitching at the ends, like he is barely containing himself from slaughter right there on the spot. One thing beasts can’t stand is losing control over their prey. 

“I escaped and tried to live a life in peace. He came after me and threatened to ruin it. But now, I had support, so I decided to protect myself.” 

Louis’ eyes were following every movement of his father, focus clearly on reading and predicting, trying to see if he will be surprised that Harry didn’t choose to play a helpless victim card after all. 

Nothing changed. His father stayed still and fuming, Harry talked, Louis watched and then it was done. Almost as if there was nothing to worry about. 

Just as he was leaving, Louis’ hand clasped tightly in his own, Harry felt his father’s eyes following him, a judging look on his shoulders and back, a silent call to turn around and allow him this last piece of controlled terror. Harry held on tighter to Louis’ hand and marched out, a look thrown away the last thing he will see of his father. 

The verdict put him in jail for 20 years. Molesting Harry was only a part of the package, including tax fraud and illegal business, distant connections to money laundry and other things that human laws generally pretend are equally punishable as striking a child until he crawls away in fear and tears. Harry didn’t hear anything from him, no warning and no threat. 

Maybe it will come, he thought. Or maybe not. Whatever happened though, the control over Harry’s life was now in Harry’s hands. 

***  
“Thank you. For everything.”   
Harry said it during a Sunday lunch with Niall, Zayn, Liam, Lou, Jeff and Gemma and Louis stared at him, surprised that he didn’t predict an outpour of emotion like this one.   
All of them looked at Harry like he is an idiot for saying it, but their idiot nevertheless. 

“Anytime Haz.”, Jeff clapped him on the back and then a quiet sniffle could be heard behind where Harry was trying to hide himself behind his hair. 

“Oi! Love, none of that!”, Louis hugged him and the next second all six of them were a bundle of arms and hair. Niall was the first to jump on Harry and demand that he calm down and not make the rest of them cry, which Gemma already was. 

Harry excused himself to the kitchen and Louis followed, waving at the others to start eating. 

“Hey. What’s the matter love?”, he gathered the longer strands of Harry’s hair up, shaping a bun and wiping beneath his eyes. 

Harry took a few deep breaths and then looked up, eyes wet and shinning.   
“They helped me so much. All of you. And now they can’t even spend the money that was supposed to make up for that risk?!”, he sounded angry. 

“Harry! You can’t really believe any of us did it for the money! It will come love, in a bit we can use it, but none of us ever cared, come on Harry. Niall, Zayn, Lou, Jeff, even Liam, they would all risk it again, only to help you!”

Harry was staring at the wall behind Louis’ head while he was talking and after, seemingly absent. When Louis took a shuddering breath in, he finally looked back at him.   
“I never had people like this in my life. What if I don’t know how to keep you?” 

Louis stared at him searching for sense and managed to find it in himself. Once, he was very convinced people he depends on don’t really need him at all too. 

“None of us are leaving you. We all need you.”   
Harry waved his head and looked down again, but Louis was having none of it. 

“Hey. I, I need you. Rain and earth, remember?”  
Small steps, Louis tried to convince himself of them when Harry smiled a miniscule bit and hugged him. 

***  
They were in the pub downtown, where regular Friday gigs for the band became a reality. Josh met a guy who knew a guy and, somehow, The Rogue was getting noticed. Louis was loving it, Niall and Zayn were loving it and Harry was losing his mind with all the people coming to see them, a camera in hand and trailing behind them like a crazed fan. It almost got him kicked out of the pub the first time, when he was nearing the tiny stage, armed with a camera and the widest smile during Louis’ solo on their song. It took quite a snogging session in front of the bouncer and the owner to convince them that Harry had every right to do whatever he wanted, since he was indeed dating the lead singer. 

Now, the crowd gathered in front of the pub, on an abandoned parking place, for an open performance for the biggest amount of people Louis has ever witnessed paying any attention to him. 

“I always knew I was dating a rock star.”, Harry whispered in his ear. He smiled and leaned further into Harry’s embrace. 

“Yeah well, you have to let the rock star go up on that stage.” 

Harry was pouting and holding him tighter, a stray lock of hair falling out of his bun and over his forehead. Josh was shouting at him to get up and start the second part of the performance, but Louis had more pressing matters to attend. 

He lifted his hand to put that lock of hair behind Harry’s ear and then leaned in for a kiss. 

“You better let me go, or you won’t hear this new song the rock star wrote for his boyfriend.”

Harry’s eyes widened and a blush crept up his cheeks rapidly, adorably, so Louis had to chase it with his lips. 

“Louis!”, Niall shouted at him from the stage and he really had to go. 

“Good luck.”, Harry breathed into his ear and let him go, hand extending to keep touching Louis. 

“All right, you impatient people! A man can’t even snog his boyfriend in piece!”, Louis said into the microphone and the crowd laughed, a few whistles breaking through the noise. 

“We have a new song for you tonight. This is, as always, for you love.”

Harry blinked up at him and hid a smile into his hands. Overcome with adoration, Louis pulled the microphone closer and started singing. 

 

The End

**Author's Note:**

> This is influenced by Marcel!Harry, at least physically in the early chapters, Harry is Marcel. Sorry for the length, getting carried away is a bit of a habit. I hope you enjoy, comments always welcome :-)


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